Isolation Mandate
by Chocoegg333
Summary: With her ex-girlfriend gone rogue, Jan feels more alone than she has in years. Her mentors (untrained in the art of teenage parenting) are out of their depth, a war is about to begin and now she has to deal with this pompous American doctor... Includes: ancient relics, gardening, nightmares, and a child prodigy-turned burnout in the mystic arts.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: You Seem To Attract Strays (In which we meet our young protagonist.)

* * *

In the early morning light, Kathmandu woke up. Vendors prepared their carts, each one filed with local delicacies and flimsy trinkets meant to fool tourists. Workers ran to and from shops, avoiding the unsavoury alleyways. Street rats crept out from their nighttime haunts, prepared to pilfer anything of value from unsuspecting citizens.

Rising with the rest of its city, a large monastery sat between countless restaurants, begging circles, and one place of worship it dwarfed beyond comparison. This was Kamar-Taj.

Avoided by many, the locals thought it to be a place of great mystery and terrible power. Rumours, for once, that held their truths—though they had their fair share if non-believers.

Meditating in her private quarters, the Ancient One could sense that young Karl Mordo waited outside. Though having been here for over a year, his presence still teemed a certain... anger.

She called for him to enter. He did so, unsure of whether or not to close the door behind him.

To greet him properly, the Ancient One rose to her feet and inclined her head. He seemed surprised by that. He thought she bowed to no one—especially not an acolyte as new as he.

He returned the gesture; in his case, it was a complete bow.

"Mordo, is it?" He nodded. "We haven't spoken in some time." Another nod, this time accompanied by a quirk of the mouth. When she paused, he spoke.

"Not since the day I arrived, actually."

The Ancient One resisted the urge to smile. _So it_ has _been that long._ Understandably, many people were affronted by her lack of immediate favouritism. She greeted them on their admission, and rarely spoke afterwards until they passed their second year.

Unless they were of special interest to her. She had to admit, that Mordo, with his surges of anger, would soon need her interest.

"Of course. Walk with me?" She held out her hand.

She closed the door behind them, hand already reaching into her robes to withdraw the light, wooden fan. He watched as she fiddled, turning it over and over in her palm.

They walked in peaceful silence through the old, panelled halls and out to underneath an overhang. Until they were perched on the steps above a courtyard, the Ancient One did not speak.

"I presume you need to tell me something?" she prompted.

He stepped forward and faced her, back stiff with the rehearsal only a soldier would know.

"Yes. I was sent to find you because..." She looked at him. He continued, "Because we found something. Some... one."

Stationed on the edge of a cliffside, the garden overlooked a small valley within Kathmandu.

It was tended with the utmost care by varying shifts of trainees. Most found the weeding and planting difficult work in the hot sun, but all preferred it to the scullery duty often doled out as a punishment. Some occasionally put in extra hours—usually if they were trying to get on Wong's good side.

If they were lucky, they wouldn't end up trampling his prized persimmons.

As Mordo and the Ancient One neared the gardens, she observed the positively sour look on the man's face.

"Wong," she said, placing her hands behind her back. "Mordo has just informed me of what you found. How are you faring?"

"Well enough, Ancient One," he grumbled. "Though I'd be better off if it weren't for our little visitor."

Until he stepped aside, one wouldn't have been able to see the child. And even as he did, she held onto his leg, whining incessantly.

Mordo and the Ancient One stared. One in prolonged bemusement, the other in curiosity.

Wong shook his leg, attempting to break the girl's grip. A difficult feat at best, with his hands still at his sides.

"As you can see-" he gave her another shake, "-she is rather persistent!"

The girl let out a small wail, fingers forever clutched to his leg.

While Mordo stared in silent confusion, the Ancient One stepped forward. She knelt down on one knee, reaching out for the girl.

"Come now, Wong: stop that. Can't you see she's upset?"

She didn't know why he was acting so grumpy. Although that was his usual state of mind, it seemed ever more obtrusive this morning.

"Here, come to me!" A kind expression on her face, the Ancient One motioned for the girl to walk to her.

Intrigued by this woman in her sunny, yellow robes, the girl let go of Wong's leg. He sighed in relief.

As she stumbled forward on her bare feet, the Ancient One assessed the age and appearance of their, as Wong had put it, 'little visitor.'

She was small, with plump knees that barely seemed to carry her. Wide-eyed and silent but for her cries, her age could be guessed at around three.

By the look of her hair and tattered clothes she belonged in a street—but her healthy complexion and weight negated that thought. Furthermore, street orphans—or anyone for that matter—couldn't just stumble into Kamar-Taj. They had to be invited.

"Ah! There we go." A stubby brown hand clamped onto the Ancient One's fingers as the girl fell into her embrace.

She helped her stand again, and once the girl was firmly situated, the Ancient One let go of her tiny fingers.

"There, you see, Wong? All that's required is some-" The girl made quick work of hugging her leg, happy with the new friend she'd discovered.

Wong's face held an unimpressed look that said, _See?_

Eyes closed, the girl pushed her face into the Ancient One's leg.

"We— _I—_ found her in the apple tree," Wong said. "She had nearly eaten an entire bushel before we were able to safely manoeuvre her down."

The Ancient One suspected he wished some sort of payment for the unsanctioned loss of the fruit. But as they were not monsters, another form of retribution would have to be decided upon regarding his apples.

"Well, I'm sure she didn't mean to," the Ancient One consoled.

Wong bowed his head, knowing her words to be true.

"Perhaps we could bring the child inside," Mordo suggested. "She can be fed a proper meal and we can discuss the possibilities of how she was let in."

"Possibilities, yes!" The Ancient One turned with some difficulty, then extracted the child from her leg. The chance of someone letting her in and not triggering one of their alarms seemed very unlikely.

The Ancient One watched, interested and amused, as the girl skipped underneath the arch to the inside. She barely contained a laugh as Wong, at first resistant, but then with a resigned sigh, let her hold his hand as he and Mordo took her to the kitchens.

The idea of Wong quickly forgiving her for pillaging his garden seemed unlikely. But the Ancient One knew he had a kind heart. However, the possibility that she got into Kamar Taj (and _past_ all of their mystical defences) of her own will seemed just as befuddling.

* * *

Weapons at the ready, the two men took their beginning stances.

Mordo, tall and muscled, shifted comfortably on top of the cobblestones. Imbued with a spell of momentary levitation, the Vaulting Boots of Valtorr gave him the high ground on any terrain. He faced the cliffside, therefore forced to squint to his opponent's left. A disadvantage on today, the hottest of the summer. Already he was sweating to soak his sparring clothes.

Wong stayed completely still, sturdy and heavily-built, his knees bent in preparation for Mordo's swing. His weapon of choice—the Wand of Watoomb—fit snugly in his right hand. His left remained empty until he would conjure a shield. The sun was at his back—for the moment, as Mordo would likely try to turn their positions. Wong leaned to his left, ridding Mordo of any shade he might have hoped to gain. He knew Mordo would strike first. As was his nature, inspired by a fiery upbringing.

Ten feet from their sparring circle, a child sat on the monastery steps. Her brown face was shielded from the sun by a red headscarf, her eyes fixed on the open book laid across her lap.

As Mordo lunged towards Wong (he always went first, like Wong always chose scissors), Jan looked up from the text. _Maxim's Primer_ —presented in the original Sanskrit—was giving her a headache. She much preferred to watch them spar, as she was seldom let into the ring herself.

Following Mordo's lunge, Wong jumped away to his right. He was agile, despite his girth. Mordo swung outwards, immediately blocked by Wong. Their staffs clanged, and the courtyard hummed with the clashing of mystic energy. Jan grinned in excitement.

Their fight evolved into a series of spontaneous strikes and blocks, the bearer of each changing with every turn. Jan watched with interest. Though she knew it was unlikely for them to get hurt (it was only a sparring match), each time their weapons collided, her heart lurched.

Wong created a shield of green energy, holding it above his head as Mordo made use of his boots. Jan didn't let herself get distracted by the swirling patterns of the magic: years ago they had taught her to avoid being sucked in by the beauty and instead focus on its many uses.

Years ago... and she was still only eight, anxiously awaiting the day when the Ancient One would allow her to join the ranks of the other students.

Wong had been so secretive regarding her eighth birthday... Jan had been sure they were going to announce it then. But that was two months ago, and still, she had nothing but secluded, private lessons.

Sparks flew as Mordo's staff connected with Wong's shield. The later grunted as his magic dissolved into formless energy, out of his grasp to manipulate. Before he could wield his own weapon, Mordo's was at his throat. Both of them panted heavily.

"You've been spending too much time in the garden," Mordo said, grinning.

Wong sighed and yielded with a wave of his hand. He planned on retorting in some clever way, but paused at the sound of applause.

Jan clapped, her infectious smile fixed in place.

Staying in the sun for a few moments more, Mordo and Wong each gave their spectator a small bow.

"So cool!" she squealed.

They retrieved some water and then sat down on either side of her. Mordo flopped onto his back, closing his eyes. Wong chose to look over the text she was reading.

" _Maxim's Primer?_ " he questioned. Jan's head bobbed up and down eagerly. "And how is that going for you?"

Her face fell. "It's going okay. I mean, the translating is easy enough—Sanskrit isn't _all_ dead! But I'm having difficulty with the writer's prose..."

Wong raised an eyebrow, leaning forward to rest an elbow on his knee. "His prose?"

"How he writes," Jan elaborated. "It's just so... _boring._ -And I know its necessary!" she added, seeing the look on his face. "But all I've done is read, and study, and _read_." Jan gestured weakly. "Am I ever going to do any of this stuff?"

Mordo barked out a hearty laugh. "The child wants to know when she'll start astral projection!" He continued to laugh when Jan hit his chest.

"Quiet, both of you," Wong whispered. Their eyes followed to where he was looking.

Jan's heart leapt in excitement. "Tao!" She moved to go to the Ancient One, but stopped. Now was not the time. Her back was to them, arm extended, showing someone the courtyard. The entirety of her attention seemed fixated on the person she toured around Kamar Taj.

Jan sat back down between Mordo and Wong, huffing dejectedly. "She was away for weeks, and now..."

Wong patted her arm. "She'll only be occupied for a little time, songbird." His glance to Mordo said otherwise. "The man she speaks to came from far away for his healing, but I know she'll require the assistance of _others_ during his induction."

Mordo took the hint and leapt to his feet. Brushing his hands off, he gave Jan's head an affectionate tussle.

Readjusting her headscarf, she pouted up at him, peeved, though not truly angry.

When Mordo trotted over to the Ancient One, the visitor reached out his hand. Jan furrowed her brow at the foreign gesture of acquaintance. She considered bowing much more appropriate.

The visitor was dressed in tattered civilian clothes, his dark hair tied back in a knot. His shoulders slanted in a way that suggested a great personal defeat. Jan wondered what he had come out of to end up in Kamar-Taj.

Wong noticed her gradual lack of interest in _Maxim's Primer._ He too got to his feet and waited for Jan to stop staring.

"What's his name?" she asked.

Wong shook his head. "I do not know."

Jan tucked the heavy book under one arm and got up from the step. "I think I'm done with this—for today." She wanted to learn as much about the soul as she could.

Wong held out his hand. She took it, her tiny fingers linking perfectly within his own.

"All right, songbird, let's put it back before Masego finds out its missing."

As he led her back inside, Wong couldn't help but look at the stranger and wonder: what would he contribute during his time in Kamar Taj?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: I Think My Bed Has Teeth (In which more than one relationship is split.)

 **Disclaimer: I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Marvel Comics/Studios, specifically** ** _Doctor Strange._** **I do not and will not profit from this fan work. It is simply done because I love the movie and needed to get this idea I had onto paper. Thank you.**

* * *

Streaming through the window, rays of moonlight interrupted the darkness. Not enough, however, for them to be seen.

Two silhouettes, intertwined in a mix of ruffled clothing and bedsheets, held each other close.

One reached up to caress the other's face. Her fingers flit underneath the headscarf and touched the few locks of hair that escaped it. The recipient smiled, elated at the attention. She leaned forward, pushing the woman beneath her to the bed.

Jan's heart beat ever faster as Julia craned her neck up to kiss her. She moved with much more experience, Jan thought. She wondered how many others Julia had been with before now. Had they all been like her? Younger, inexperienced... needy?

This wasn't Jan's first kiss—not even with Julia—but each one felt better than the first. Each one made her happy.

Her happiness, of course, did not last forever.

Julia pulled away, breaking the moment by saying, "I'm going with Kaecilius."

Jan copied her motion, sitting up from in between her legs.

"You're _what?"_ Even in her shock, she kept her voice quiet. Curfew had passed an hour ago.

"Tomorrow, after lunch: I'm going with Kaecilius—we're all going, Jan."

Jan leaned back on her haunches and touched her lips for the kiss that had once been. Just a few seconds ago; now so much further in the past.

"All?" she croaked. _All._ Who could that mean? All didn't mean everyone in Kamar-Taj, but perhaps all of their _class_? Recalling a few training scuffles, Jan found that she could think of a few.

"Marcus, Deirdre, Sabine..." Julia listed more names, and with each one Jan's heart sank. Marcus created fear in battle—sometimes literally, with the power he wielded. His tendency to hold loyalty to the point of personal destruction could be used against him. Sabine came from a bitter family: one who had disregarded her for her sisters at every turn. Her inclusion didn't surprise Jan.

"...And Duncan," Julia finished. Jan blinked. _Duncan? But he's so weak..._ Was that why he'd turned away? Jan remembered how frustrated he'd been becoming. He barely kept up with the rest of the class.

And Julia? The one who had kissed her first? Jan looked out the window. A nighttime breeze rustled leaves across the ground. Why would she go with him?

"So many..." she murmured.

"Yes, it's wonderful!"

"Is it wonderful?" Jan winced as the hopeful look departed Julia's face. "I mean... he has such _radical_ ideas."

"Radical ideas?" Julia scoffed, pulling her legs away from Jan. "'Radical ideas.' You sound just like her."

"You mean Tao—the Ancient One?" Jan corrected herself. "What's wrong with sounding like her?" She loved her.

"I know..." Julia shook her head. "I know this must be difficult to hear. -And you have every reason to be on her side... But maybe not everything she taught you is the truth?"

Jan leaned away from Julia. Her knees were starting to tingle from staying still for so long.

"Not the truth? She has no reason to lie!"

"But what if she does, Jan?" Julia implored. "I know she raised you-"

"-She's not the only one," Jan cut in. "Wong, Mordo: they're who I know—and you're going to betray them?"

 _"That's what I'm talking about, Jan!"_ whispered Julia. She leaned closer, but Jan stayed back. "This place, and the sanctums: they're _all_ you know! Doesn't that seem a little odd to you?"

It wasn't, was it? "No, it doesn't!" Jan searched for an answer. "I know many places! I've been to _three_ continents! That's more than the average person can boast." And she didn't like to boast.

"Which cities, Jan?" Julia said cooly. "Which cities in the _three_ continents. Surprise me with an answer I'm _not_ thinking of and I'll be impressed."

Jan looked away.

Julia took the opportunity. "Don't you realize? This is what she's been doing all along: hiding things from us—especially you."

"What proof do you have of this?" Jan asked. She'd sat in on one of Kaecilius' lectures on inter-dimensional communication. The strength with which he'd spoken was admirable, but also a little frightening. "-And _not_ what you heard from Kaecilius." She'd heard more than enough of what 'he said' for one evening.

"All of _us."_ Julia said. She reached for Jan's hand but stopped when she pulled away. "The ones you've known for years: we believe him. He told us the truth."

Jan _had_ known far too many of the names Julia said; each one of them for long enough to be considered true friends. But she had known Wong and Mordo and Tao since before she could remember—which was far longer.

"I asked for proof _—facts_ : not belief, Julia." Her name tasted sour in Jan's mouth now; so unlike her lips had just minutes ago.

The bed creaked as Jan got up. She put on her shoes in silence, readjusting her headscarf in the small mirror.

Her back was turned when Julia said, "Tomorrow, after lunch, in the main courtyard. There's a place for you among us, Jan. I asked Kaecilius, and he approves— _greatly."_

 _He_ approves, _does he?_ Even the wording of it sounded false.

"And I... I hope to see you there, with me."

This had happened so fast. Their night together had just spun on its head—by one sentence.

 _She's going with Kaecilius._

Jan looked back at Julia, her face illuminated by moonlight. "Goodnight," she croaked. A 'see you tomorrow,' wouldn't have been inaccurate, but Jan feared she would've gotten the wrong message.

Jan stepped out the door before she could be caught in Julia's customary, patronizing frown.

* * *

The lessons next morning passed by with frightening quickness. Ancient Runes had never seemed so pointless, and Mystical Theory so dreadful. Each demonstration or transcription flew by Jan too fast for her to even copy it down. Worse still, Julia sat behind her the whole time, eyes cutting holes in the back of her scalp.

She had slept one, maybe two hours through the remainder of the night. After the third rude awakening by some thought or another, she had stared at her clock until it read 6:29, then slammed her hand atop the alarm's off button.

She knew Master Kaito noticed her inattentive status during Mystical Theory, and internally thanked him when he did not call on her.

When they were dismissed for lunch every young acolyte but Jan jumped up, grabbing their totes and notebooks. Some showed friends the motions Master Kaito had demonstrated, with a few even producing some green sparks. These were more advanced spells—ones they couldn't properly learn until drilled over and over in the hot sun.

Lunchtime arrived (much to Jan's dismay), and to make it worse, Julia pulled her from the soup station to sit with her friends. Today Jan would've preferred to sit with Wong and Mordo and the other Masters, even if she'd outgrown her stay at their table.

Her fellow students laughed and joked with eachother during the lunch hour. More than one wonton was thrown, much to the cooks' displeasure.

Jan smiled along with Julia and Marcus. She joined in on their prevalent discussion on whether or not Theory had a use in their learning, and systematically found herself in the grey area. (Useful to a point, but she wished they spent more time practicing than watching.)

When two of the guys began to chug the dregs of their soup, Jan's attention was drawn to the Masters' table. Partly because she wanted to be away from where she was, but mostly because he was sitting there.

Talking thoughtfully with Master Wei; occasionally making a point that would sour his face. Eyes that slithered back and forth, never truly allowing anyone know what was on his mind. Orange robes that contrasted with his grey hair and hard, lined face.

 _Kaecilius._

She remembered the first time she'd seen him. He was broken then; completely different to who he was now. That had been a hot day.

A hand, entirely unexpected after their exchange last night, pinched Jan's waist. She jumped, dropping her chopsticks with a shriek. At her outburst, many of the acolytes laughed. Julia was one of them, her shoulders shaking as she pulled Jan closer. Wrinkles creased Jan's brown forehead as she grimaced, accepting their antics.

As the minutes passed by, more and more benches scraped back, the go-getters setting out to begin the afternoon. A few from Julia's table went outside, their faces now set in grim masks—so different from the happy young adults they had just been.

There was an air of anticipation as the residents of Kamar-Taj left the dining hall: some to their rooms; some to classes; some to the Library. Many, however, went outside to the main courtyard where a lesson was about to begin. Jan stayed with that crowd, depositing her bowl on a bussing tray near the exit.

Julia brushed up against her as the crowd grew more condensed. She clasped Jan's hand, offering her a brief smile. Jan did her best to return it, though her heart was filled with lead.

Those who were _actually_ here for a lesson lined up in neat, single-file rows. With the added presence of the Julia's friends, the courtyard quickly became crowded.

Julia moved ahead. Jan stayed at the fringes, leaning against one of the pillars.

Mordo had obviously noticed the newcomers. Though his emotions were kept in check through years of training, Jan knew when he was ticked off. Right now, for example, when Kaecilius walked up to him at the head of the class.

Their confrontation was short, terse, and fit to burst with mystic energy. If Mordo hadn't stepped back, sarcastically gracious, Jan thought a duel would have erupted.

Mordo's lips moved, saying something for only Kaecilius to hear. Whatever it had been, he wasn't fazed. Presenting to a crowd half-filled with those loyal to him, he was in his element.

"Friends, fellow Masters!" Kaecilius addressed them all. Jan frowned. _Friends?_ She didn't associate that word with him. Yes, he was cordial to all he fraternized with, but _friends?_

"I come to you today as an equal, honest and benevolent. I come to tell you of my findings as a scholar and Master." He lowered his voice. "I am here today to offer you the future: a place with me."

Mixed reactions covered the faces of everyone present. Wary glances at friends, small nods at his intense proclamations, wistful gazes that made Jan nervous. He was commanding the crowd, and he did it expertly.

"In this place we are but mice, trained to fight and die in an unforgiving world. My brothers and sisters, I offer to you the chance to become more, to break out of these molds," he swept a hand over the crowd, "to know what it is to truly live _beyond._ "

A couple of whispers travelled through the audience, none of them loud enough for Jan to catch.

"You have been deceived these many years, but it was by no fault of your own. You only believed who you knew to be right—who you _thought_ to tell the truth!"

Many students looked around in worry. One, a man from Mexico, made eye contact with Jan. She frowned, looking past him to Kaecilius.

"Some of you have already learned of these falsities... and by whom they are swiftly delivered!"

He pointed right at Jan. _"Her."_

Jan's brow furrowed, then relaxed slightly when she saw who was standing next to her.

The Ancient One's face betrayed none of her emotions, though Jan could've sworn she saw her upper lip twitch.

"You will lie to us for no longer!" He addressed her without title. Too informal, even for one of the Ancient One's former pupils and long-standing compatriots. "Me and my equals seek the truth—and we will find it: what you have so desperately tried to hide."

 _Equals?_ Jan looked for Julia and found her blond hair in the centre of the crowd. Marked by their signature red uniforms (one Jan also wore) the young acolytes covered enough of the courtyard to make her feel uncomfortable. How many of them were on his side? How many did he consider his "equals?"

"You will no longer lie to us," Kaecilius repeated. His tone was slow and measured, enough that it didn't sound fanatical—even if what he was suggesting followed that exact path. "Me and my equals will keep the truth, unlike you!"

Jan looked to the Ancient One, as did many others. Her eyes squinted, looking at Kaecilius as if to say "who?"

Kaecilius raised his hands, and there was a stirring within the audience. His "equals," which included many of Jan's classmates, pushed forward. Friends and Masters alike grumbled and exclaimed in shock as they watched their peers and students stand next to the dissenter.

"Attempt to stop us and we will not hold back!"

Those who hadn't moved looked to the Ancient One for an answer. Would they fight? Or would they simply let them walk away—nearly a third of the trainees and one powerful Master.

The Ancient One finally spoke, and, surprisingly enough, her tone lacked contempt.

"Go, if you choose to. But know this: once you leave with Master Kaecilius, you will no longer be welcome in Kamar-Taj."

Jan saw that in her eyes, Kaecilius was a long lost cause. Her words were for his zealots alone. None of them paid any heed.

Two portals appeared on either side of the crowd, live and sparking. In two lines, the zealots ran through them, not looking back. Jan watched Julia's blond hair flit through, then looked down, remembering their last good moments together the previous night.

Kaecilius was the last to go, but not before he gave those who stayed one final, withering look. The portals closed when he left, leaving a few sparks and a crowd of stunned people. They muttered amongst themselves, asking if they'd known—if they'd known this was going to happen, and what was to happen next.

 _Jan_ had known. But she hadn't told anyone. If she'd spoken up, could she have stopped this?

After some time of hushed conversation the crowd (still of a considerable size) turned to their leader.

The Ancient One opened her eyes, letting her hands relax at her sides—though she was anything but relaxed. "Masters, I must speak with you."

Jan tried to get her attention before the crowd pushed them apart, but the Ancient One had already turned around. She reached out, but was thrown back to the pillar as a dozen people surged inside.

Some returned to their rooms to think over what had happened. Many meditated on it—without gaining a new understanding. A few stayed outside on the courtyard opposite to where the display had taken place, but found that their attention was elsewhere. Everyone was thinking about what had happened—what Kaecilius had said.

* * *

Wong found Jan in the garden. Basket balanced between an arm and a hip, she tossed birdseed to the warblers that frequented the plaza. She stood between them and the plants, both barrier and care-giver.

Though she was facing the apple tree, the stillness in her back told him she knew he was there.

Wong stopped at the base of the steps, causing a couple of the birds to fly away. She had been a small child, and that height hadn't grown as her age increased. Now she just stood to his shoulder. Her red acolytes' uniform, handed down from past trainees, fit her body to every seam. The blue headscarf stood out against it, a trademark that identified her amongst all the rest. Her brown skin, a pigment different from him or Mordo, had lent her an early belief that they were never truly related. It had never mattered to her.

"They're not going to come back," he said.

 _Has the time already passed for that?_ It had been a few hours, and she was already feeling the absence. Without the rowdiness of Julia's group, Kamar-Taj seemed empty.

But Kaecilius had said too much. He'd disrespected the Ancient One. There was no coming back from that.

"To be honest, I am surprised you didn't go with them."

Jan clenched the basket handle. "I... You really think I'd leave you for _her?"_

"I said them."

Grimacing, Jan looked up at the sky. "I suppose I can't ever have any sort of personal life, then?"

"You were not very discrete," Wong said.

Jan turned around, anger flaring up across her face. "Oh, was it because I was happy? Is that so strange?"

Wong frowned.

"You don't approve." Jan shook her head, believing she knew full well. "And I don't even need to ask what Mordo thinks."

"Who you choose to be with is your decision alone: don't dwell on what others think," said Wong. "But, to contradict that: maybe, next time, someone not so... susceptible?"

Julia was strong. Jan recalled the times when she'd knocked the other trainees to the ground—even the taller, bulkier men. Only Jan had competed with her equally in the sparring circle.

Wong continued, "And though I am not aware of what the Ancient One knows, you can be sure that Mordo won't hear it from me."

Jan let out a breath through her nostrils. "Thank you, Wong."

"If you feel like eating something, there's a bowl set aside for you in the kitchen."

Jan nodded, appreciative. Wong went back inside. Jan looked just in time to see him turn out of sight. She resumed feeding the birds, thinking back to when she had not done it alone.

* * *

 **A/N: Greetings to the reader!**

 **I guess this is just a story I'm doing for the Doctor Strange. (Obviously, since it's in the Doctor Strange archive.) It involves an OC, and no romantic relationships (at least with main characters), so if you're here for that, sorry? (Not really, though, I like my idea as is :) It'll take place primarily from the point of view of my OC, showing the story from new eyes, etc, etc... From what I can tell right now, it'll probably be around ten chapters long (Maybe with an epilogue, who knows?), taking place during the events of the movie, but involving very few scenes from the actual film. (At least, at the beginning.)**

 **Thank you to** _blackcat711_ **for following,** _CupcakeLoopy_ **for reviewing and favouriting,** _TheFrenchRevolution_ **for favouriting and following, and** _kanna-yamamoto_ **for favouriting!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Town Hall Christmas Party Usually Starts With A Death (In which a funeral is held.)

* * *

Weeks went by and all Jan could think of was Julia's departure. It hurt to have her leave like that; everyone felt the absence. Not just of Julia, of course, but of all who'd left. Classes and mealtimes were emptier. People moved together to make up the space, but there was always a feeling of... vacuity. Jan wasn't the only one to loose friends, even if hers hadn't always been the most friendly.

The lunch table was the most obvious marker of their absence. Unoccupied since that afternoon, it remained as a twisted monument to those who had left. It was no secret that the majority of Kaecilius' zealots ("equals") had been the younger demographic of acolytes. Jan knew all of their names, even if she hadn't known all of them.

Every time she walked by the vacancy, she felt eyes on it and her. Some people whispered, hiding behind their hands. When they did she felt like turning around and screaming at them to speak up. It would be better if they just said it to her face.

Breakfast was a two-hour affair, open from six until eight AM. Because of this wider timeframe the company was usually quite sparse and Jan could choose where to sit.

She deposited her bowl on the Masters' table with a resounding _clunk._ The man across from her looked up but did not offer any other greeting.

Jan sat down across from him. In her doing so, she hoped Mordo's preference for a silent meal would prevail. He couldn't be happy after yesterday.

"You missed your sparring session yesterday." His voice held its formal tone, even when she knew he was cross.

Jan grimaced, breathing in. "I apologize," she said, knowing he tolerated very few excuses. Mortal injury and a family member's death were the ones she knew he'd accepted in the past, and neither applied to her.

Her stiff and equally formal tone surprised him—though he didn't show it. "It's only your luck we had an even number of trainees, regardless."

There hadn't always been an even number. In those times, one unlucky soul had had to face him. It was usually her; she could hold her own.

"I'll be there next time." No promises either: if you went back on your word he preferred not to have the broken promise (no matter how small) lingering between you.

"Good." He nodded, spooning some cereal out of his bowl. "I'm advancing the class to freeform conjuring. I'll demonstrate the three basic start-ups at the beginning of next class."

Surprising even herself, Jan let out a short laugh.

"What?" Mordo asked.

She shook her head, waving him off with her spoon. "So it's freeform... yet you're showing us what to do." This dissent sounded oddly familiar. Jan set her spoon down on the edges of her bowl.

"Showing you _how,"_ Mordo said, "From there it's your choice."

Jan looked down, "Right... choice." She could _choose._

Mordo stopped eating. "This isn't the conversation we're having." Shaking her head, Jan turned her gaze back to him. "What do you really want to say."

 _He's always right to the point—as soon as he finds it. What really_ is _on my mind?_

"I thought- I thought at least one of them might have come back by now."

Mordo raised an eyebrow. Jan knew exactly what he was thinking.

"I know what she said—that none would be allowed back."

"-And you know she will hold up that promise."

 _She always does._ Jan continued, "Yes but I thought-"

"-That they would try anyway?"

"That they might realize that what they were doing was wrong."

Mordo finished his breakfast, re-organizing his bowl, spoon, and cup in the places they were first laid out. What he said left Jan stunned. "You need to move past your feelings."

"My... feelings?" _Wong said he didn't know!_

"You know of what I speak."

Jan knew of _who_... She'd skipped yesterday to go see Julia's room. Already, it had been stripped of any personal items: her ring of multicoloured hair ties; the journal hidden in her bedside table panel; the MP3 layer with one hundred problems she'd always complained about. All of it was gone.

"Oh for shit's sake," Jan grumbled. She got up, drawing attention with how loudly she pushed the bench back. Mordo remained in his seat, calmly frustrated with her. Stalking over to the dish bin, she practically threw her breakfast utensils in it. With everyone's eyes on her, she left the dining hall in a rage.

* * *

The garden was where Jan felt safest—and where people knew not to bother her. It was located in a courtyard on the easternmost side of Kamar-Taj, below the Ancient One's tower. Underground sprinklers had been installed a year ago, but there was still a supply of watering cans for when they broke down. The tool shed was known for its squeaky door, so many chose to leave it open while they worked.

The tomatoes had reached new heights this year, she thought, affectionately straightening one of the vine supports. Maybe she could persuade one of the chefs to make spaghetti again. _That would be nice._

She skipped another day of classes, choosing to spend it in the garden. Plants were tended to and books were read. Having been in Kamar-Taj all her life, she had a seniority the other students did not. That meant first pick in the library and a few more stares in class.

At lunch the next day, Master Kaito spoke to Mordo. He noted Jan's absence in her theory class. He mentioned that it was much smaller since the zealots had left. He brought up the idea of admitting a few more students to the school. Mordo let him talk, while Wong watched in silence from across the table.

Jan didn't once appear in the dining hall that day.

This was the third day she'd ignored her classes. The first had been after the zealots' departure.

The sun began to go down, and Jan felt a mixture of freedom and guilt at who she'd have to apologize to. If she went back right now, she'd have to endure the entirety of Mordo's wrath.

 _Trust someone's_ _actions: not their_ _words._

To him, what someone did was everything. Words could be taken back, apologized for. Actions were a little more concrete.

Tomorrow, then, she thought, leaning back into the apple tree's trunk. Tomorrow she would go to him and apologize again. This time, she would mean it, and would return to her classes.

From this spot she could see all of Kathmandu. Every little light flickering in the night, all the people scurrying through the streets, minding their own business. Most of them had families to go home to. She wondered how many of them had done something they regretted that day.

 _Almost_ regretted, Jan told herself. The freedom of not going to classes had relieved her over the past three days. Reading outside and working in the garden both lacked the claustrophobia of an indoor classroom. However, she knew that three days without proper training would leave her behind in the drills.

The open book on her lap was a steady source of realism: it was here; so was she. Her eyes began to close, shutting out the sun's final rays.

-Until she jerked awake, surrounded by darkness.

"Shit!" She jumped up, nearly dropping the ancient text. "Shit, shit!" She brushed the dirt off her hands and face. "Shit, shit, _shit!"_ She grabbed the trowel and watering can, the shovel and the clippers, and threw them into the garden trolley. While wheeling that around, with its squeaky wheels and constant _clink, clink, clink,_ disguising her presence would be an impossible feat.

After re-locking the supply shed she tip-toed through lamplit corridors to return the book. Masego would be furious if he found out she'd been reading in the garden—again.

She passed no one on her way there, and wondered how late it was. Why had no one come to get her? Had anyone noticed she was missing?

Though lamps lit her way to the library, Jan kept to the shadows. Curfew applied to all the acolytes under twenty, and thus, to her. She only hoped that Masego hadn't locked the doors just yet. She would be screwed if she couldn't return the book in secret. He always knew when one was missing.

She sighed in relief when she saw they were not. The huge double doors to the library were open, allowing her full, unobstructed access. That was unusual for this time of night. Jan crept through the entrance, still keeping to the shadows as much as she could. Shelves loomed high above her, creating shadows that stretched across the floor. The tables all had their chairs pushed in. Jan passed by the return bin, noticing that there were still a few books inside. His assistants must have not shown up, otherwise they would've been put away.

She looked around for Masego, and when he didn't appear, crept down the stairs to the Masters' Archives. _Just need to put the book back... then sprint up to bed._ A sling ring would be more useful in this situation, but she hadn't been given one for personal use just yet.

It was brighter down here than she would've imagined. Usually, by this time of night, Masego had turned down the lamps. Anyone who wanted to read further took the books back to their rooms. Jan would've done the same except she had finished hers—and it wasn't the first time she'd read it, either.

The smell hit her first. It clouded her nostrils with the scent of blood and shit and-

Jan coughed, "Oh god." What was that? It was like something had... She stopped mid-step, unable to look away from what was on the floor.

 _Died._

The book fell to the ground with a muffled thud. Its hardcover backing shifted out of place and a number of pages came loose. Jan reached to the nearest table for support. Nearly stumbling over her own feet, she dropped into an empty chair.

There was a body, clothed in the blue robes of a scholar, but where was its head?

Her stomach turned over and she felt something heave up her throat. Finally, she tore her gaze away from the corpse. She looked to the blood spreading out from where the neck would be, and at the ornate bowl near the shoulders. Hunched over, elbows on her shaking knees, she puked at her feet.

* * *

"We've confirmed it. ...It's Masego."

That hadn't taken them long. His head had been in the bowl, after all.

"Jan?"

"I heard you," she whispered. But she wasn't listening. She was in the garden, in her safe place—back when none of this had happened.

"Perhaps you would like to-"

"I'm staying here!" she snapped at Mordo. She felt instant regret at her temper; he had nothing to do with this. He was only here so she could take her anger out on someone.

Except... she didn't feel like she had much of that right now. What was supposed to feel like fury and rage at the murder of one of their own had only left an empty space in her stomach. She just felt sick.

"There'll be someone to clean up your-" Mordo stopped himself. "To clean up the mess."

Jan nodded slowly. _Her vomit,_ he meant.

He offered his hand when she stood up, but drew back. She brushed him off, stepping around the puddle of bile. The place where the body had been—her _first_ body—was empty. The floor had even been cleaned. She hadn't noticed before. Around her for what felt like hours a chosen few had dealt with the mess. Meanwhile, the other Masters and students tried to understand what had happened.

Jan had seen accidents before. Broken limbs were common in the sparring circle, and the occasional traveler appeared in the healing barracks. Sometimes, sorcerers even died of old age. But not like this.

Many suspected that the attacker(s) had fled through the doorway to the London Sanctum. Messages had already been sent. London replied quickly, notifying them that they had suffered no more casualties.

"The healers took the body for the funeral preparations," Mordo explained. Jan kept staring at the place where it had been. The funeral would take place in three days, as was their custom. Any family members would be transported to Kamar-Taj in time for the ceremony and pyre-lighting. The cooks would prepare the food of his home country. Jan would wear her blue headscarf. Everyone would wear something of his colour.

Still, this wasn't an average funeral. Masego had been killed—murdered—and everyone had their suspicions as to who had done it.

"His family?" Jan still faced away from Mordo. An open book caught her eye.

"He has a sister. She will be told and invited to attend."

Jan stepped around the now-empty space, holding up her loose pant legs. Once near the book, she ran her finger along the parchment's unnaturally jagged edge. It looked like only two pages were gone. _Only two?_ One ripped corner had been enough to make Masego furious. These books were his livelihood.

 _Had been_ his livelihood.

Mordo cleared his throat. "Jan, if you saw anyone—any _thing—_ speak now."

 _The Book of Cagliostro? Who would want to mess with time?_

"I didn't see anything," she echoed. _Just a headless corpse._ Jan turned around. "But we know who did this, Mordo."

The missing pages were from an extremely dangerous ritual. It contained powers that only a madman dreamed of; ones that had given her nightmares as a child. After days without sleep, she knew they'd regretted giving her ten-year-old self the freedom of the library. Thoughts of the Dark Dimension had haunted her for weeks on end—and for months after the Ancient One forbade her from reading any more.

She expected Mordo to protest, to tell her she was wrong, but maybe that time had passed.

"The Ancient One needs to be notified of this immediately," he said, "and someone will have to tell Masego's sister."

"I'll go to Tao!" Jan blurted out. "I mean, the Ancient One... Your Tswana is smoother than mine, anyways."

This time he seemed ready to reject her proposal. So before he could, Jan bowed and left the library.

* * *

After five knocks and no answers, Jan opened the door uninvited. For anyone else in Kamar-Taj, this was unthinkable. But after spending so much time in here as a child, she felt she had a right to the place.

The Ancient One's room was as simple—although larger—as anyone else's. The extra space was put towards a mat that stretched along the entirety of one wall. Ten feet long and worn with use, it provided the surface necessary for practicing martial arts footwork for hours on end. Jan had once used it for somersaults.

An ornate chest sat next to the bed. One lamp was lit above the bed and another next to the door, providing enough light for the entire room.

Sliding the door closed behind her, Jan sighed. She didn't end up waiting for long.

The portal appeared just ahead of her. As it grew, she stepped back to allow its user some space.

The Ancient One was dressed in her yellow robes. These, Jan had come to learn, were the ones she wore in combat.

Upon noticing Jan's presence, she smiled sadly, as if she'd been expecting her.

"There's been an attack," Jan said.

The Ancient One nodded, looking away from her. She went over to the bed and retrieved her wooden fan. She seemed less menacing—more comfortable in this setting—with it in hand.

Jan's frowned at her complacent attitude towards the manner. "Wait- did you already know?"

The Ancient One began to prepare some tea. The kettle boiled while she placed two cups on a woven mat. At her invitation, Jan knelt.

"I did. I went after Kaecilius and his zealots, after I saw what they did to Masego."

Jan's eyes widened. "It- so it _was_ Kaecilius..."

"Does anyone else suspect it?" She asked, pouring hot water into the cups.

"Who else would they think of?" Jan said. She accepted the cup, relieved by its warmth. "He's all anyone's talking about..." She turned to her thoughts. _And to come back here, after_ _her warning. It_ had _to be for those pages._

The Ancient One added some honey to her tea from the pot inside her cabinet. She stirred it three times before Jan's silence became apparent. Moving to the mat, she crouched down to her level.

Jan stared into her tea. She thought of the pages... and the nightmares that had plagued her as a child. Only two and the ritual outlined was capable of destroying the world.

"I saw what was stolen," she finally said. The Ancient One closed her eyes. "The ritual he took... It's forbidden."

The Ancient One remembered her eagerness to read as a child—an eagerness that had been quickly stamped out by fears of the Dark Dimension. She'd had Masego (on Wong's desperate request) bar the doors to the Masters' Section any time Jan was in the Library until she was fifteen. Once she had passed that age, the sleepwalking and nighttime fits declined in frequency.

"Not in his state of mind, I'm afraid," she said. "He is a determined man."

"And we need to go after him!" Jan exclaimed, then shook her head. "I mean, I know you already did. But you're back so quickly that I assume he got away..." The Ancient One's silence told Jan she was right.

"Master Kaecilius' excursions will bring him nothing but destruction," she told her, but Jan was unconvinced.

"-But if he got away— _with_ the pages-" A thought popped into her mind. _The_ pages _... Masego would never let anyone hurt the books. Not on his life. She didn't go after them because they killed Masego—he was already dead by the time she got there._

"If this is about your former relationship with the zealot-" the Ancient One began.

"It's not!" Jan protested. "I keep saying it's not, so why does everyone keep bringing it up?!"

"Because it is," the Ancient One said soothingly.

 _It's not._ It wasn't because of that. Jan felt abandoned by all of them... not just Julia.

Jan put the cup down. The tea was already cooling off and she had done her job here—her pointless and unnecessary job.

"Go," the Ancient One said, reaching for her hand. "Get some rest, my-"

Jan stood up. "I'm not your child." She left before the Ancient One could say anything else, leaving her hurt, and with two full cups of lukewarm tea.

* * *

Three days passed and it was time for the funeral. The body, kept in the cellar where it was cool, lay prepared and waiting for transport. The library, though still stinking of disinfectant in Jan's opinion, had been cleaned to the point of unknowability as to the murder which had taken place. Masego's personal affects had been collected from his room and packaged in a large box. If his sister wanted any of it, they were hers.

She arrived in the afternoon, escorted from Botswana from one of the Africa-based masters. She seemed unfazed by the portal and magic that surrounded her. So much so, Jan thought that Masego much have told her—often people confided in someone they knew from the regular world. It served as a sort of grounding mechanism for their psyche. Jan knew that Kaecilius hadn't done such a thing. He hadn't had anyone to confide in.

Neither did she, oddly enough. Her entire life was based in this place. -At least, what she remembered of it.

The sister was dressed in clothing that blended in with the styles of her home country, but that also displayed a spectrum of bright blue dyes. On her head she had a sort of wrap that melded with a hat that shielded her eyes. Her head stayed bowed, only nodding when spoken to.

Jan pushed the thoughts of "lateness" and "timing" out of her head before they crossed paths. She had already made up her mind to not personally address the sister, and instead gave her a respectful nod as the Master led her to the open courtyard.

Placed in the centre (far enough so the trees wouldn't catch fire), the pyre held a foreboding aura. The appointed funeral master had constructed it that morning. People avoided that area today like they avoided Julia's lunch table.

The sister's formal dress reminded Jan that she needed to go change.

Her blue headscarf—bought in the southern market of Kathmandu—was her piece of remembrance for tonight. Besides that, her clothing (a sleeved tunic, harem pants, and comfortable sandals) fell into a pattern of dark greens and grey. It almost looked black. She would blend in with the darkness tonight. Right now, Jan wanted to fade into the background; she wanted to be left alone.

Dinner was served earlier than usual. Unlike breakfast, everyone attended at the same time. Because of that, Julia's table was not left unoccupied for long.

Jan sat between Wong (who had returned from Hong Kong) and Mordo (who hadn't spoken to her since the library. She'd stopped attending her classes, choosing to pursue interested students to spar with.) Wong offered a few suggestions for conversation to which Jan answered politely, but they kept quiet for the most part. There would be time for talking later.

Jan found herself helping with the dinner clean-up for once, a fact not left unnoticed by the cooks. By the time all was cleared and prepped for the next day, night was beginning to fall. She left the kitchen and made her way outside.

People—masters, students, scholars alike—hovered at the edges of the courtyard, waiting. It was filled to burst, with many coming through the Sanctums to pay their respects. Jan knew many, but not all. Some stayed behind to protect the Sanctums. Now was a time of paranoia. They were all waiting for the next attack.

The sun had dropped almost entirely below the horizon. People reached up with long poles to light the lamps. Once night was here, the funeral would begin.

Finally, the dark overtook the light. Jan stayed hidden amongst the scores of shifting bodies. The words—and the translation—bounced around her head.

A section of the crowd parted to allow the procession through. Four masters, each projecting the same, circular support, levitated the body towards its pyre. Wong was amongst them, having been close to Masego. The body was wrapped in blue cloth to represent its owner's duties as a scholar in his life.

The body was rested upon its pyre, a mound built with sticks and logs, all held together by a flammable resin coating. Supports disposed of, the four masters dispersed into the crowd.

Then, carrying a lit torch, the sister walked across to stand next to her brother. Her face was the only one illuminated enough to see. Jan saw that she hadn't cried yet, or at least, her lined face did not show it.

The Ancient One followed her at a slower pace. A blue sash woven around her waist served as her piece of remembrance. Once she stood next to the sister and her torch it juxtaposed against her green robes much more noticeably.

The words she spoke next brushed over Jan with little meaning. A eulogy woven of loyalty, determination and diligence; specific and singular to Masego, and at the same time just as good for anyone else. Jan didn't know of these traits. To her, he'd always been the loud, frightening librarian that scolded her for how she treated the books. Not evil, and definitely not deserving of this early fate, but someone who would be missed more by those closer to him. Jan knew she would have to be there for Wong in the coming weeks.

The Ancient One concluded her speech on a note that wavered through the air, part grief, part anger. She turned to the sister, who shook her head when asked if she had anything to add. She was a stranger in Kamar-Taj, no doubt feeling out of place amongst all the people who had known her brother, but whom she did not know herself.

After the speech came the words.

"A soul reaches farther than death," the Ancient One said, first in English, then in Tswana. The sister joined her the second time, followed by those who had carried the body. The words spread through the crowd, person by person, until the murmur reached a full chorus.

" _A soul reaches farther than death. A soul reaches farther than death."_ -Now entirely in Tswana, in Masego's memory.

While the voices continued, the sister touched her torch to the pyre. Flames leapt up and she jumped back. The Ancient One steadied her with a hand on the back. The sister stood where she was, as close to the fire as she could bear.

A brilliant display of mystic energy appeared above the rising flames. Circles that rotated into triangles which gave off into bolts that sparked into a flurry of light and colour. Blue: all of it was blue, and still, the crowd spoke, _"A soul reaches farther than death."_

Though Jan's mouth was open she hadn't yet said it. The spinning display of blue energy caught her eyes and she followed everyone else, looking up.

She hadn't thought of a word to appropriately describe what the zealots and Kaecilius had done. Word after word had been flashing through her mind for weeks, always brought on by the gossip people loved to spread, but they had never sounded quite right.

Now, as she began to say the words—first whispering, but then crying—she had an idea of how she really felt.

Betrayed.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: How D _are_ That Rock Make Excuses For Stubbing Your Toe—It Was Right There! (In which apologies are... attempted.)

* * *

Jan's opponent held back. She hated when they pulled their punches—and in this case, their kicks.

Jan shifted back and forth on her feet. Camila reared back, Jan jumped up. A little late on her step, she got socked in the stomach, but still managed to avoid the next punch. She danced around Camila, feet twisting across the stones. She moved across to the other side of their circle. The had no weapons; just their fists. Jan was sweating in the hot afternoon sun.

Camila was an acolyte in her mid-thirties that attended the same martial arts class as Jan. Originating from Argentina, she brought with her a unique fighting style and scores of linguistic expertise. She wore a green top and wrap-around pants, their colours signifying her transitional phase from long-time student to master. Jan was all in red, her headscarf tied back in a large knot. Her feet had no shoes. She preferred to train with as much contact as possible to the terrain around her. At the moment, she and Camila were going through the motions of a judo form.

The stones set into the ground followed patterns of gold and brown. The gold formed circles precisely ten feet in diameter. The spaces in between were filled with brown. Each sparring circle's size made it difficult to avoid one's opponent. Meant for intense, close-quarter duels, they were only used during the master classes, or, as in this case: private sessions.

Jan found her heels pressed to the edge of the circle. During her internal bemoaning of them "always holding back," one decisive hit

had caught her off guard.

 _Good._

Slapping her palms to the ground, she rolled to her right. A gust of wind brushed her head; another sweeping kick. Camila favoured her left leg, often twisting on her right heel in order to use it in any direction: Jan could use that.

After the kick swung by, Jan jumped up from her crouched position. Palm facing up she struck it into Camila's hip. She staggered backwards and Jan advanced.

Camila made the mistake of keeping her back turned to Jan—even if it was just for a moment. She tried to turn back around, but Jan latched her hands around her waist. Jan spun, levying her weight to throw Camila to the ground.

Before Camila could spring to her feet, Jan had one of her own planted on her right thigh. Jan leaned forward, testing her weight. Camila grimaced, then relaxed onto the stones.

"You need to watch your right," Jan said, stepping back to allow her a moment.

The older woman let out a breath that was part frustrated sigh, part resigned laugh.

Jan cocked her head. "You know Mordo will kick your ass if you don't." Camila's preliminary combat assessment was three weeks from now. One month after that—if all went well—and she would receive her black belt.

"As if that wasn't what you just did," Camila groaned. Eyes still closed, she massaged her soon-to-be-bruised leg. "Are you sure that is an orthodox move?"

"What? The hip swinger?" Jan laughed, stepping out of their circle. "Of course it is—I see it on WWE all the time!"

Camila sat up, her splayed legs adding to the look of a defeated opponent. With a confused but interested expression, she asked, "You get WWE here?"

Jan's eyes widened. "Well, yes—but don't tell Wong!" She would be in for it if he found out what the majority of her internet time went to.

"Your secret is safe with me," Camila laughed. Jan tossed her a water bottle, uncapping her own. They both made quick use of them. Camila deposited nearly all the water on her head, while Jan simply drank.

They departed for the showers soon after that, and Camila thanked Jan for the extra session. Through her extended time in Kamar-Taj, Jan was known for her readiness to engage in combat, and despite her age, she was capable of taking on most everyone who asked her.

Scholarly studies, on the other hand, were a different matter entirely. Though she did well in the classroom-testing of many of the mystical arts, when it came to book work she found herself repeatedly stumbling where the rest of the class advanced. The events of the past few weeks had begun to build on her.

"Wong? You here?" She walked through the library's main floor. When she didn't find him there, Jan moved to go down the stairs.

The book she'd been reading (skimming) hung loosely from the crook of her arm. Though she'd read it before, the wording had never seemed so jagged. Jan placed Maxim's Primer on the return bin at the bottom of the stairs. She needed to brush up on her Sanskrit.

Rounding the corner of one of the tables, Jan froze. She blinked, trying to clear her head. The body on the floor seeped blood into the ground like a creeping mold which made the corpse even more unnerving in its limpness its emptiness, its owner had moved on he was dead-

"Jan?"

The blood disappeared. She looked away from the ground, her attention refocusing on Wong.

"Did you need something?" he asked, a concerned look in his eyes. When she struggled to form a comprehensible sentence he placed the stack of books he'd been re-shelving on a trolley.

"-Yes!" she finally said, "I, um-" she gestured back towards the return bin. "I need the advanced text on, um, Sanskrit, please." She blinked a couple times before looking away.

"Right," Wong said. "I'll go get it for you. Maybe have a seat until I return?"

Jan waited until he was gone before she maneuvered herself into a chair. The moment she touched the seat of it her knees gave out and she let out a long breath. By the time Wong came back, dusty volume in tow, she had collected herself.

As he set it down in front of her, Jan asked, "Aren't you worried about being here, after what happened to Masego?" Wong now shifted between his duties as an instructor and his newly-assigned task as Head Librarian.

He looked to where the Eye of Agamotto was held, to the three doors that lead to the Sanctums. "No. Kaecilius got what he came for. He will not return here."

What he had come for: which was the ritual pertaining to the Dark Dimension.

 _Those eyes._

He had taken something that could destroy them all and yet no one would talk of going after him. Why weren't the Ancient One and Wong and Mordo more disturbed by this? Every moment since finding Masego's body Jan felt like bursting apart. This was the beginning of something terrible: why weren't they doing more to stop it?

"I can take care of myself," Wong said. "I am not helpless. Besides, isn't it _you_ I should be concerned for?"

Jan rolled her eyes. She knew what would come next.

"You've been missing your classes—both practical and theory."

"Oh, and they tell _you_ about it."

He gave her a look.

Jan drew back in, sinking further into her chair. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I've just- I've been working on more of the mystical practices... on my own."

Wong raised an eyebrow.

"Oh come on!" Jan exclaimed, rising to her feet. The chair pushed back soundlessly. "I can do everything you teach the beginners, but not half of what the advanced classes are learning!"

"They are older than you," Wong said.

Jan threw her hands out, "But I've been here for fifteen years! Almost my entire life!" All of her _memorable_ life. "Besides, the Ancient One always says that age is not a measure of ability—and how old is she?"

Wong let her continue.

"I know I'm a slow learner—but sling rings and beginner's combat? Really? I'm beyond that now. What good will I do if I don't even have a decent relic?" She'd resorted to using one of the kitchen ladles to channel her energy. The cooks had not been pleased.

The book made a rustling sound as Wong pushed it towards her. Jan looked at it, actually remembering why she had originally come here. Sanskrit—she was fluent in Sanskrit! It was just the way some of these long-dead sorcerers wrote, like they were trying to drill holes through her memory.

"Show up to your current lessons," Wong said, "Then we'll talk about advancement."

Jan picked up the book, holding the text delicately despite its considerable weight. She bowed her head, as respectful as her pride could muster, then left in a flurry of half-muted mutterings and curses.

Wong waited until she went up the stairs. Once he heard the familiar slam of the library's main door he breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the multiverse she hadn't noticed.

He stepped around the table to inspect the chair she'd been sitting in. After a moment's hesitation, he pushed it. Instead of falling over, it drifted three feet ahead of him, remaining at its height on an inch off the floor.

He shook his head and went back to flick the cart's break on. The books could wait.

* * *

Days went by and Jan tried to muster up the courage she needed. Mordo hadn't spoken to her since the library, and she hadn't kept her promise made in the dining hall.

She spent all of her waking time in the garden, studying alone in the comfort of her thoughts. Those who carefully asked her for combat tutoring were swiftly denied. Even ones such as Camila, who had been coming to her for months, were left to their own devices—though her denial was paired with an apology.

Wong was no less strict than Masego regarding the treatment of the books. Those that attempted to return theirs overdue were met with the sick punishment of late-night scullery duty. But Jan's connection with him made things different. He had raised her, after all. A quick banishing spell got rid of any dirt the books collected. And she had the feeling that as long as hers were returned on time and in perfect condition, he wouldn't dwell on where they'd been.

That and she had kind of taken over his job as head gardener. The persimmons were in good hands.

Finally, after rehearsing her apology a dozen times over, Jan felt like she could face Mordo.

 _It's completely my fault, I take all the blame, I'll pull double-duty—anything!_ No excuses: that was the key. Then maybe she could slink back into his advanced class.

But he wasn't the only one she needed to apologize to. She would have to see Masters Kaito, Sondra, and Jourus as well. Jan had a feeling they would be much more forgiving. That might be because she wouldn't be repeating herself to them.

Jan caught up with Mordo in the dorms, who was just closing a door to one of the empty rooms.

Jan froze; it wasn't just any room. She knew that one. She'd snuck in to it on numerous evenings, and snuck out on numerous early mornings.

When he saw her, Mordo's expression changed from one of amicability to one that strengthened his cool, frosty exterior. He waited patiently, hands clasped behind him, for Jan to catch her breath.

The words flew out of her mouth in the exact order she'd practiced them: explanation, apology, promises. Thankfully, she didn't stumble or stutter anywhere in her speech. She kept the same apologetic-but-not-quite-pleading tone, her gaze leveled and her feet planted.

"-and I promise, Master, I won't dodge your classes anymore." There. She'd said it. He'd listened to her. He hadn't said anything, actually. Had he even been listening?

There was just one thing: she'd said this all before. Her voice replayed like a broken record.

After her speech, Mordo remained silent. Jan looked up. Had she forgotten something? Or was this some elaborately-constructed nightmare?

When he finally spoke, it was only to berate her. Jan maintained eye contact, desperately trying to ignore the pain in her stomach. As always, in his sly, two-handed way, he took apart what made her argument weak.

"Have you told your other masters of this new... development?"

Her face fell. "No- I mean, not yet! You're the first."

He sighed, shoulders relaxing. "Your sincerity is appreciated, Jan. But I suggest you hurry and tell your other Masters before the day is done."

She stepped aside as he began to walk. To match his steps, Jan had to keep a brisk pace.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked.

"I mean I've taken on a new student," he said. "And that he is now in your place. You will rejoin the communal class, starting tomorrow-" Jan's heart sank, "-and you will situate yourself in Master _Sondra's_ quarter." He stopped at the end of the hall, just before the doorway. "Is that understood?"

An anvil had just crashed around her meticulously-prepared walls. This new student—whoever they were—had ruined everything. How had she not heard of them, if they were good enough to have taken her place? She hadn't heard tell of this new person, maybe because she'd been living in her own little bubble for the past few weeks.

Before he left without her answer, she nodded. "I understand."

"He'll be there as well, so go easy on the man," Mordo called back as he began to walk away.

Jan stayed frozen in her place, undignified by the news of this pupil Mordo had taken on. She hadn't done anything that deserved being tossed aside like this! Not really... right? Jan swore under her breath and kicked a storm of dust up with her boot. Then, realizing that she needed to see her other Masters before the day ended, she followed his example and left the dorms.

And from behind a closed door, the newest resident of Kamar-Taj frowned at the exchange he'd just overheard.

* * *

 **A/N: Finally, next chapter, Strange and Jan will meet!**

 **Thank you to** AsuraNight **for following :)**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Violence Is The Only Way I Seem Capable Of Showing Affection. (In which skills are re-learnt.)

* * *

Bearded and sloppy, the new guy was easy to pick out. Every punch he threw was held back by embarrassment, each cart wheel he attempted turned into a flailing (and tipping) mess, and the few sparks he managed to generate were pathetic. Jan had done better at seven.

Though Mordo's circle was on the other side of the courtyard, she managed to sneak a few glimpses at him. He was white, with mostly black hair. The tunic and pants fitted him illy. Jan felt (and looked) right at home in her red clothes, a sign of her seniority.

"Keep your guard up!" Master Sondra yelled. Jan instinctively flinched into her starting position. By the tone of his voice, she'd been caught staring at the newcomer again.

"Strike! Block! Turn!" In close proximity to everyone around her, Jan felt the wind whip by her arms, courtesy of the others' own, practiced punches.

"Ha!" she shouted, with extra force in every strike. (Mostly) everyone pivoted in sync on their right foot and punched again. The masters walked in between them, correcting any mistakes and praising those few who deserved it. Jan found herself in neither of those categories.

* * *

"Focus on where your fingers touch. Visualize what was shown to you before and it _will_ come."

Arms stretched out in front of her, Jan flexed her fingers outward. It had been some time, but the basic symbols appeared in front of her.

First, a glowing line of yellow energy. Jan twisted her arms to the right like they'd been shown and it followed. She pulled her hands apart, stretching it into a square.

 _One dimension, two dimensions, three dimensions, four!_ She remembered singing that up and down the halls of Kamar-Taj—much to the Masters' amusement.

In the rhythm of the drill, Jan punched through her square with a resounding _"Ha!"_ It shattered into nothing—like it was meant to—and she started all over again.

* * *

Something that went along with their martial arts training was a consistent upkeep of their flexibility and agility. Like Jan, many had been taught gymnastics since their early childhood. She could do a dive roll, turn a cartwheel and hold a handstand all in under ten seconds—though not necessarily in that order. Even when on the Mei Hua Shuang (Plum Flower Poles), in which they were situated four feet above the ground, on, you guessed it: _poles_ , Jan held her foot above her head in a perfect kick extension for longer than anyone else.

"The object of this exercise is to test your balance—not speed." Mordo and the other masters were gathered at one end of the field of poles. For obvious reasons, the students (all of varying ages and sizes) were gathered at the other.

Mordo's comment regarding speed seemed directed at the few of the students. Jan looked at the heads of those who were going before her. She predicted that most would make it across, though few would be able to do it in an admirable time.

Before it was her turn to go, she looked back. Avoiding everyone else, she made eye contact with the new guy. (The moniker still applied—even after three weeks.) He raised an eyebrow. She glared and turned back to the poles.

Stepping in front of the first post, Jan tucked the ends of her headscarf over one shoulder. A voice shouted _"Go!"_ and she jumped the four feet into the air.

Her balance on one foot was impeccable. She bent her left leg into the crane position, and kept her arms parallel to the ground. For Jan, the key was to focus on her next destination. She remained upright if she didn't linger too much on the present.

She jumped and landed one pole away. Another leap had her two further, already moving faster than anyone else had. Unlike them, she had been doing this at age ten.

Enraptured, the crowd of students watched as she jumped from pole to pole, barely pausing to breathe.

She was due to meet her best time, until she miscalculated a jump, Her foot lost its grip. Jan swore, slamming her hand on the top of the pole. She transferred her weight onto one arm, barely balanced on the top, legs tucked underneath her torso. Breathing became strenuous in her position. Jan closed her eyes, avoiding the stares of everyone around her. Students and masters watched as her arm shook from the strain.

To recover from her near-fall, she shifted her toes onto the top. With a satisfied inhale, she got to one foot and slowly returned to a standing position.

She blinked, then moved on to the next one.

Because of the slip, her time fared no better than anyone else's. But as she flipped to land on the other side of the course—unnecessarily, in some's eyes—Jan smirked, revelling in the awe-filled stares the students had for her.

* * *

Sling rings were what Jan looked forward to most. The ability to travel anywhere, to go to any place? Pure awesome.

She'd been furious when they'd held her back a few years ago. Apparently, when given the "freedom of Kamar-Taj" it did not include the unconditional use of all its relics—not even some of the minor, totally-easy-to-replace ones.

Jan barely paid attention as they were given the customary lecture at the beginning of the first class.

"The most important rule of the sling ring is to have a strong picture in your mind," Mordo said. "If you're unsure, or are perhaps drawing on less legitimate sources," he glared in Jan's general direction, "the results could be less then desirable."

"What do you mean by that?" Everyone turned to the man who'd spoken.

 _It's him,_ Jan realized. _The new guy._

"Portals, Mr. Strange, can lead to many places. Even to some not within our world."

 _Strange._ She had a name for him now.

They split up into their four quarters, this time moving to different parts of Kamar-Taj. Jan watched intently as Strange followed Mordo into the courtyard adjacent to theirs. Master Sondra called her group to attention, so she looked away.

Lined up alongside the other students, Jan slipped her middle and index fingers through the loops.

"Focus on where you see yourself going," said Master Sondra. They all began to circle their free arm in front of them. For some—like Jan—this began to create sparks.

She thought of the garden, the place she knew better than anywhere else in Kamar-Taj. Visualizing the rows of vegetation, stack of empty watering cans, and tall apple tree, her sparks soon grew into a circle.

Jan felt Master Sondra pass behind her and could've sworn he whispered "good work." She knew Mordo would have kept silent.

Jan imagined that if it was working well enough, another circle might appear next to the apple tree some two hundred metres away. She wondered how much it would scare whoever was on rotation in the garden.

By the end of that week, everyone had managed to make a complete (if not wholly functional) circle. All except Strange, so said the rumours.

When Jan's class was dismissed, she snuck over to watch the other attempts. Sitting off in the shade, she scrutinized his attempts with glee.

He tried in vain to produce something, but only made a few abysmal sparks with his frantic circles. Jan scoffed when he finally gave up, arms falling to his sides. Mordo dismissed the class. They dispersed and Jan shrunk back as his eyes locked on her. He seemed about to walk over, but didn't, as someone else had arrived.

Smirking, Jan got up as the Ancient One entered the training courtyard. Prolonged failure with the sling rings only led to one destination: Everest.

* * *

Lunchtimes had become lonely. In fact: _all_ meals were now times Jan wished to avoid. No one sat at Julia's table. (Julia's _former_ table.) Twittering groups of students skirted around it, barely sparing a glance for fear of becoming corrupted by the treachery.

Jan also seemed to have become a symbol of isolation. People rarely spoke to her during class, and she was hard-pressed to find a place to sit. No one could find room for her at their tables anymore.

So, one afternoon, in an act she hoped would dispel some trepidation, Jan strode, straight-backed and proud, to the empty table. More than a few whispers surfaced when she did, and she was thankful for her headscarf—it hid her burning ears. Jan kept her eyes glued to the table for the entire forty minutes, shovelling food into her mouth with mechanical gestures.

Intent on avoiding the patronizing stares, she didn't notice the shivering man enter the dining hall, icicles still coating his shoulders. And because of that, she didn't see the nearly-pitying look that crossed his face when he saw her tiny figure all alone at the table.

* * *

After another lonely lunch hour Jan was summoned to a meeting with the Ancient One. Before the messenger had even turned their back she had abandoned her table and was sprinting out the door.

When Jan walked into the room she noticed the Ancient One was wearing dark green robes over her customary yellow—the ones meant for colder temperatures.

"Did you take the new guy to Everest?" she said. Jan had seen him in the dining hall. He'd looked awful, covered in icicles and clutching a soup bowl like it was the only reliable source of heat.

The Ancient One nodded, suppressing a smile. "I did. He fared as well as any of the others."

"He passed?!" Jan's eyes widened. "But he hadn't even formed a circle!"

"You know how motivating I find desperation to be. -And his name is _Stephen,_ " she added.

Jan shrugged, then asked, "What did you want to see me for?" _Enough about_ him.

The Ancient One went over to her desk and began to sort through sheaves of yellowed paper. "How are your classes going, Jan?" she asked.

"Fine, I guess." Jan found a sudden interest in the wooden planks that made up the floor.

The Ancient One took one of the papers away from the light, hiding it underneath a heavy book. "And you're returning to form after your noted absence?" she said, hinting at the very thing Jan wanted to avoid.

"I..." Jan sighed and picking at her sleeve. "Yes, I am."

The Ancient One looked at her.

"But it's all so... simplified," Jan said. "These 'beginner's classes' -I know they're part of my punishment, but-" she laughed, trying to lighten her tone. It sounded like she was complaining. "I mean, I guess I forgot how easy it all was."

"Easy for you, perhaps," the Ancient One chuckled. "But you were always a very gifted student."

 _Then why wouldn't you let me progress any further? Why did you hold me back? I was better than_ _anyone_ _else in class!_ Jan inhaled; the thoughts slipped away.

The Ancient One shifted to what she really wanted to talk about. "It's come to my attention that you feel neglected."

 _Oh god._ Jan shifted back and forth on her feet. The headscarf just hid the blush creeping up her throat.

"This is no doubt due to the events that have occurred in the past two months. So I think that it would be a good idea for us to spend some time together."

 _What._

"I would be tutoring you, in a way."

An opportunity to be trained by the Ancient One herself? In person? Jan's heart leapt at the chance of returning as her star pupil. She hadn't received this kind of attention since starting her lessons as a child. "You're offering _this_... to me?"

The Ancient One nodded.

"Of- of course, then! Yes, I would apprec- be honoured. I would be honoured."

"Very good," the Ancient One said. She turned around, making for the window. "I'll call on you when it's time."

Jan was surprised to learn that there wouldn't be a set schedule for this tutoring. However, she wasn't thick enough to ask why right then—or ever. That day she left the Ancient One's quarters with an extra bounce in her step and a semblance of hope in her mind.

Over the next week, while everyone else moved on with their lives, she waited. The call would come soon. They would talk again soon. The Ancient One would call for her to talk again soon. She wouldn't keep Jan waiting up until midnight four days in a row, hoping that her idea was for a later meeting time... She wouldn't do that, right?

 _"_ _What is on your mind?"_ Wong asked her, two weeks later, from across the table.

Jan looked up from her book, completely aware that her lack of sleep had not gone unnoticed. _"I was just thinking... I was just thinking, Wong. Not of anything specific."_

He nodded. _"Of course not._ I'll just assume your tiredness is because you've been speaking Sanskrit for the past half hour," he said, reverting back to English.

She blinked, a mildly-interested expression crossing her face.

"Yes, consider yourself 'caught up' in that area."

Jan half-heartedly pumped her fist in the air. "Woohoo." _Another near-dead language under the belt._

Wong sat back in his chair, waiting for her to really say what was on her mind. She kept staring down at the book. One finger absentmindedly tapped a well-worn page, while her mind flew through a cloud a million miles away.

"Do you think..." she trailed off, then made eye contact with Wong. He prompted her to speak with an encouraging nod. Jan took a deep breath. "Do you think anyone here likes me?"

His face turned into an expression of concern.

"-Like, _really_ likes me," Jan said.

"Do you mean-"

"No-" she held up her hands. "Not _like_ like... I know that already. Just, does anyone really like me as a friend, or is it just because I've been here so long?"

Wong sighed. "You know that you're still welcome at the Masters' table."

"I don't think I am," Jan muttered. She let a breath out of her nostrils, its sound resembling that of a laugh.

"You are. You have a place here." He gestured to library, with all its shelves and books and relics. "You have a place with us where ever you choose. So long as I and the Ancient One and Mordo-"

"-But Mordo hates me!" Jan said. "He hasn't talked to me in weeks... and I apologized—I _did,"_ she added, to quell the smirk on Wong's face.

"He does not hate you," Wong said. He and Mordo could never hate her. "He's only reminded of himself at your age..."

Jan had a sudden memory: being out of bed past sundown, toddling to a room where people argued. They said her name in voices of concern and fear. She peeked into the room, her face cast in dim firelight, only to be spotted by Mordo. The argument ceased when they realized she was there. Small and cherub-like, Jan was swung up into the arms of one of her guardians. She giggled, playing with the green tunic he wore. He said something to the two others in the room—something Jan couldn't hear because her ears were covered up.

"I know that," she said, hiding her momentary lapse in thought.

* * *

Only during the group drills was he unable to avoid her. In those, everyone reported to their own teacher, but they all practiced in the same courtyard. Today, Masters Sondra and Mordo had broken off from the group, taking their thirty students with them.

The students, now in the smaller courtyard near the garden, began to form their usual rows.

"There's no need for that," Mordo said. "Divide into pairs and practice what you've already learned."

As soon as he said that, everyone moved away from Jan. She rolled her eyes, glaring at those who glanced her way, even though all she felt was insecurity. Was it out of fear, or out of principle? Just because she'd been friends with the zealots didn't mean she was about to behead someone.

Master Sondra called her over. She nodded and jogged towards him, glad to leave the empty circle that had appeared around her. But her relief disappeared when she saw who was with him.

"This is Stephen Strange," he said. "You'll be practicing with him."

Jan avoided Strange's gaze, but nodded to the Master. At the edge of her vision, she caught Mordo staring. When she looked, however, he'd turned away and was reprimanding one of the students.

Master Sondra left them to their work, and Jan couldn't help but think of how terribly this was going to go for her. Paired up with some scruffy American who can barely take a punch? She'd be better off with one of the practice dummies. At least _they_ were bolted to the ground.

"So, why are you wearing red?" Strange asked.

Jan looked at him with disdain. Obviously her red clothing stood out against their white garments: it was a sign of her status. Though she'd been placed in a beginner's class, she was _not_ a beginner.

"Silence?" Strange made a face that said, _Don't say I didn't try!_ "All right then."

They began the exercise everyone else had already started. Jan held up her open hands and Strange punched into them. The idea was to practice form and extension of the arm on an actual (albeit stationary) target. It was meant to be more realistic than the empty air they were used to.

Most of his hits bordered the line of pathetic, if not crossing over it. Jan was surprised he hadn't injured his wrist with how he held it. He winced each time he struck her palm.

She saw that his punches were weak—like he was holding back. His stance left much to be desired, and she had a sudden thought of how easy it would be to knock his legs out from under him.

When they switched places Jan didn't hold back. She hit him like he was an actual foe, each strike relentless and placed in the centre of his palm. He stumbled every time, struggling to hold his hands up at her punches. She smirked as a frustrated look spread across his face.

Frustration soon turned to anger. "Oh," he said, "And it's just so easy for you?"

Jan's smirk didn't go away when she planted a kick just above his right shoulder. Her expression only widened at the noise of fright he made.

As Strange stumbled back (equally prepared to retaliate against her challenge) Mordo called out, "Switch partners!"

She didn't give him a second look.

At the end of class she bowed to her final partner. They had gotten more and more capable with each switch. Naturally, _all_ of them had been more proficient than Strange.

"Strange! Jan! Come here." For the first time in weeks, Mordo had referred to her by name.

Jan pushed through the dispersing crowd of students. She had a feeling of what was coming next, but was surprised at who he'd chosen to face her. Jan was no stranger to showing off; she was looking forward to fighting Strange.

They stopped on either side of Mordo. Jan smirked at the whispers that weaved through the crowd.

 _"What is he doing?"_

 _"She'll_ kill _him."_

 _"This can't be fair..."_

Mordo positioned them ten feet away from each other. The remaining students thinned out into a circle twice that diameter. The whispers stopped when Mordo spoke.

"This is just a drill," he said, addressing the two of them equally. Strange looked like he wanted to say something. "You both know what you're capable of, so act wisely." Mordo still hadn't made eye contact with Jan, but whispered something to Strange as he left the circle.

Before giving him a small bow, Jan re-tied her headscarf, tossing the ends over one shoulder. He didn't return the gesture, a sign of disrespect—or his ignorance.

"Fight!" Mordo said, his voice jolting them into their beginning stances.

Strange stayed back, understandably wary of Jan. She waited two seconds, giving him a chance, then lunged forward. Once they were within four feet of each other, Strange tried to hit her.

He _tapped_ her extended forearm, a motion which didn't move it in the slightest. Jan's look for him said, _Really?_ before it returned to smugness. She grabbed his arms, he caught onto her shoulders, and they grappled in the centre of the circle. To dislodge his grip, she twisted their bodies around and threw him back. He stumbled into the other half of the circle. They had switched sides.

Jan licked her lips, and just heard Mordo yell, "-guard is down!" No doubt referring to her slouched, near-relaxed stance.

Strange kept his posture straight, but his feet were all wrong. They pointed away from Jan, and unless he was trying to feign an attack (which she didn't think he had the head to do), that wouldn't help him in any way. But it could be of use to her. Later, though. For now, she was going to play.

Strange shifted forwards and punched. Jan turned away, dodging his blow by inches. Her feet barely left the ground. _L_ _ike a leaf on the wind._ She swiped out a playful kick, hitting him on the backs of his knees. Strange growled as he stumbled away from her. Jan stepped back, raising her guard. Now it looked like she was taking this seriously.

Strange punched again, but she side-stepped it. Like every other time, she just evaded his hits.

The moment that became clear—the same when Jan betrayed her intentions with a gleeful smirk—Strange went a little berserk. He charged, despite what he knew to do. He lashed out, even through his instincts told him not to. He swung his entire weight in her supposed direction, not realizing that she had already moved.

To move from his destined trajectory, Jan twisted to the right on her heel. As Strange flew past her, she took the moment to shove him even further. His feet skid across ground and he fell with a loud _whumpf_ on the other side of the circle.

Jan knew that turning away from her "opponent" wouldn't make Mordo happy. But she'd won, right? What did it matter?

"Is this fun for you, or something?" she heard him growl.

Oh, so he'd finally caught on.

Jan heard the shuffling of Strange getting to his feet, regaining his balance. The ground seemed to shift as he ran at her, signalling the side which he came from. Jan stepped to the left at the last second, right arm raised just in time to close-line him. Strange fell to his knees again, clutching at his throat while he gasped for air..

Angered by his foolishness—his unwillingness to accept defeat—Jan turned on Strange. One hand fisting into his tunic, she threw him onto his back. He wheezed in pain as the wind was knocked out of him. She reared back, fully prepared to deliver a real punch-

 _"-_ _Stop!"_

She froze at the sound of Mordo's voice. It carried a note of anger—true anger and not just the disappointment she'd come to expect. She was breathing heavily, her fingers curled into the collar of Strange's tunic. He stared at her, looking at something she couldn't see in herself. Looking in fear.

The glint disappeared from her eyes as she let go of him. She shook her hand, as if ridding them from some kind of vermin. This time Jan didn't hear the whispers—she didn't pay attention to them. She stepped away from Strange, moving back until the crowd parted for her. She turned and left the courtyard. Mordo dismissed the class and followed her.

"You are not allowed to push this blame on me."

Mordo's words infuriated Jan. "Not allowed?!" she said. "Who else is there?"

"You must take responsibility," he said, straightening to his full height. Jan wouldn't be intimidated, and stepped further into his shadow.

"And yet _you_ were the one who had us spar."

In the afternoon light, she saw the lines harden in Mordo's face.

"What did I do wrong?" Jan cried. "He's just weak; he can't take it! I am _better_ than him—than all of them—and you know it."

A furious look crossed his face. Jan shifted her right foot back half an inch.

"I said to act _wisely_ , and you treated him like one of your regular sparring partners."

Jan blanked.

"You know what you are capable of and yet do not hold back. _Know_ your strength," he growled, leaning closer to her. "-and when not to use it."

In the healing centre, Stephen Strange groaned in pain.

"Stop that," Mordo chided, "It's not even broken."

Strange looked up, attempting to ignore the ache in his wrist. "Just because I'm a doctor doesn't mean I handle pain particularly well."

Mordo nodded. "That is becoming clear to me."

Strange winced as he tucked in the bandage's stray end. He thought of the person who was responsible for his current pain, and asked, "Where did you drag her up from?"

Mordo gave him a look as he put away the medical supplies. "Nowhere," he said. "She came to us."

This made Strange pause. He knew Jan was young—younger than anyone else in the class. "How old was she?"

"Not very old," Mordo said.

Strange stood up, only to grit his teeth as pain shot up his legs. "Ugh... I hurt everywhere."

Mordo chuckled, which irritated him. "Yes, Jan is well-versed in combat. If only I could say the same for her classroom diligence."

Strange wanted to ask more about the girl, but he knew by the tone of Mordo's voice that the subject was in due need of a change. He would leave his questions on Jan for another time—if she didn't confront him first.

* * *

 **A/N: God, I hate writing fight scenes... If you have any ideas for improvement feel free to let me know! Sidenote: if ya'll feel like reading some more Doctor Strange fanfiction before my next update, check out "Long Overdue" on my profile. It's a short story (like, shorter than this chapter) about Strange reuniting with his sister after his time away at Kamar-Taj!**

 **Thank you to** Exotence **for following! Welcome to the show! (I guess XD)**

Kenobi1: **Thanks for the kind words,** **dude** **! They really made my week 3 I'm so glad you find it intriguing, and I hope you enjoy where Strange and Jan's friendship goes :)**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: What Kind Of Poison Do You Like In Your Pasta? (In which an offer is received.)

* * *

It took some time, but eventually, the Masters of Kamar-Taj noticed a change in Jan's attitude.

In her academic classes, she answered questions when asked; most of the time she was right. They attributed this to the hours she'd been spotted in the library past curfew. Once or twice a week she even _asked_ questions, often inquiring about subjects far past their current curriculum.

In lessons involving practical use, she was second to none when producing any kind of results. Once, this led to a minor explosion that threw her—and her alone—across the courtyard, but she got up without much groaning.

During the lunch hour (which, they noticed, she still spent alone), she ate with one hand and practiced the motions with another. So far, the food had remained unscathed.

Only in the mass combat drills did she rarely strive to stick out. Her movements were more precise and perfected than anyone else's, but since the day with Strange she hadn't had any outbursts. Most notable was her deliberate and angry silence towards one particular Master.

On more than one occasion, Mordo saw her looking at Strange. Strange hadn't noticed, but whenever they passed each other she would jerk her head or make a less-than-subtle gesture, lips always shut, brow always furrowed. Strange _had_ been improving, but he still dragged behind everybody else.

Despite Mordo still being cross with her, he couldn't help but smile at Jan's unseen attempts at guiding him.

One lunch hour, Jan got up from her empty table. She went over to Strange, and put her bowl down in front of him. He looked up, saw who it was, and leaned away.

She opened and closed her lips a number of times before muttering, "You need to keep your guard closer." Then she walked away, leaving him bemused, frightened, and a small packet of crackers.

Later that evening he found a note stuck to his door handle.

He unfolded it warily, expecting hate mail of some sort. What it said was far more confusing:

 _Go to the garden after dark._

* * *

"Well, this is all _very_ mysterious."

Jan stood up from the herb growth she'd been tending. _Off to a great start._ Hand on one hip, she turned around to face the man she liked least in Kamar-Taj. That's right: she'd gone from "hated" to "disliked".

The time of night certainly added to the 'mysterious' ambiance, but it couldn't be helped. "I'm not exactly allowed to practice my spells outside of class," she said.

Strange frowned. "How do they expect you to learn anything?"

His words reminded her of Julia, who'd always questioned the Ancient One's means. Jan had brushed it off then, but gave it a moment's thought when he said nearly the same thing. "By listening, I guess."

He scoffed, but stared at her with a different look in his eyes.

Jan picked up her shovel, then, crossing one leg in front of the other, rested her chin on the handle.

"So..." Strange gestured to the empty, unlit courtyard and her obvious sizing-him-up. "What am I doing here? This _is_ the right place... Are you the one who left the note?"

Jan shook her head, "No, I actually just like gardening in the dark. It's very meditative."

Strange pursed his lips.

Jan chuckled. "Of course I left the note. -But I do like gardening at night," she added.

"How do you see in the dark?" he asked.

"Magic." Jan looked away to the rows and rows of vegetables. Doing this was more difficult than she'd thought. She sighed. "Listen. I'm sorry about a few weeks ago. It wasn't cool. Cool? Is that what Americans say?"

After a moment, Strange nodded. Until then, he'd hardly noticed the slight thrum in her voice. Her accent, he realized. _But from where?_

"Cool, then. Yeah, it wasn't cool. But I'm willing to tutor you—if you want. In a way of apologizing, I guess."

 _What could you teach me?_ Strange almost asked, but instead settled for the very eloquent, "Wha-?"

Jan looked pained to repeat herself. "I said-"

Strange shook his head, "Oh, I heard you. I'm just confused. Why, exactly?"

"I don't know..." Jan dug the toe of her shoe into the dirt. "I feel bad. I hurt you—and don't give me that look! I noticed the bruises... Besides, you _need_ help. I've tutored others before, so..."

That caught his attention. So far, Jan had been an elusive prodigy, shrouded in mean looks and distrust. From his perspective, she didn't seem like the type to help anyone out.

"What exactly would this entail?" he asked.

"We meet here, after dark, maybe like, three times a week. I've been watching you during class so I have ideas of what you need to work on." Jan cringed. "That came off as creepy, didn't it? I didn't mean for that to sound so creepy."

She seems nervous, Strange thought. But that wasn't like the cold, unforgiving person who had so readily knocked him onto his ass.

"And you're genuinely willing to help me?"

Jan rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Why should I believe you?" he asked. "Unless you've been possessed for the past month, you'll have noticed that we don't have a common cause to work for."

He was so new. He didn't yet know about the dangers they faced. For now he was a student; it was all just lessons for him.

Kaecilius had a disastrous spell in his possession, and with that came the inevitability of war. They couldn't tell the new ones that—not right away.

"We can't afford any weak links here," was all Jan said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh my goodness," she groaned. "Are you going to take my offer or are you going to keep asking questions? I have all night, but Mordo will expect you awake at the usual time."

The lack of honorific intrigued him. Whenever anyone else spoke to or about him they used the prefix of 'Master.'

"One more question," he said.

Jan looked up, seemingly annoyed, but she nodded.

"How long have you been here?"

About fifteen years, if they'd guessed it right. Mordo and Wong had been here for longer, but not since such a young age. Kamar-Taj was all Jan knew: she rarely went anywhere else.

She sighed. "Long enough for me to know what to teach you." Jan turned back to the garden and stuck her shovel in the dirt.

* * *

 _"_ _Now,_ conjuring is very similar to the sling ring—only without the focal point of the sling ring."

"So it's all on me..." Strange muttered.

Jan grinned. "Pretty much!" She began to circle him, hands folded behind her back. "As you know, the main source of our conjured weapons comes from the realm of the Iriad."

"Sounds like the Iliad," Strange said.

"You've read that!? Cool! -I mean, ahem," she coughed, "As I was saying: we draw upon the inter-dimensional energy to defend ourselves, only in this case our hands—instead of a relic—are the focal points."

She barked, "Stand up straight! Arms out! Now: beginner's fighting stance!" Strange followed her instruction, raising his fists and bending his knees. To Jan's slight displeasure, he did this in a way that was not _exactly_ in time with her commands. She stopped circling and faced him head on.

"Show me the first finger pose you learned," she said.

"Shouldn't you know-"

"I know what it is!" Jan barked. "I just learned it in a different way!"

Strange nodded. He curled both of his index fingers to their respective thumbs, then bent his ring and middle fingers halfway.

Jan inspected his hands, one brow crouched over her eye. "You're certain this was the way they taught it?"

"Weren't you there?"

"Yes, yes," she waved him off. "But I never pay attention the first day."

Strange stared at her in disbelief.

"Try this," she said, reaching towards his hands. "Touch your _middle_ finger and—everything all right?" Still in the process of rearranging his fingers, she looked up at the pained expression on his face.

"S'fine," he grunted.

Jan looked back and saw how his hands trembled in hers. "Your hands are shaking."

"Don't I know it."

She hadn't noticed this before—not even during their fight. With the help of one torch and a thousand stars, Jan inspected the white scars running up and down his fingers. _This is why he came to Kamar-Taj._ Healing wasn't an uncommon reason or need.

Noting his discomfort, Jan shook it off, pretending nothing had happened. He obviously didn't appreciate her sudden focus on his hands, so she stepped back.

"What are you visualizing?" she asked. Did he focus, or did he wander? How was he thinking of what he was trying to do?

Strange let his hands relax. His arms fell to his sides as he said, "What Wong showed us."

"Right," Jan said, nodding. "Line, then square, circle, diamond, pentagon, kite."

"Pentagon and kite?" Strange raised an eyebrow.

Jan blinked. "Right, sorry, that's... _slightly_ more advanced stuff." _For the beginners' class, at least._ "But you're watching _him,_ correct?"

"Yes..."

Jan shook her head and began to pace back and forth. "Scratch that. You're learning from the Masters, but if you try and copy them from the start you'll choke when it comes to improvisation."

Strange sighed. "How am I supposed to learn this without copying it first?"

Jan paused mid-step. "That is a very good point." She continued pacing. "But outside of class, try being a bit more... creative. Think of it like an independent project!"

Strange thought it futile to point out that managing a straight line—to conjure anything, in fact—would barely be a step in getting caught up with everyone else.

"So, let's get inventive!" Jan pounded her fists together, then flung her arms out, fingers splayed to shoot bolts of blue energy in all directions. Strange jumped back, lifting one foot to avoid the stray sparks.

Jan grinned. "See? Creative. -But maybe try something simpler like the line."

She had him shift back into the starting pose. This time, he made no formal arrangement with his fingers, instead letting them curl naturally. The shaking didn't stop—it rarely did—but not forcing them into convoluted positions made it easier to concentrate. Jan watched as he tried again.

Strange concentrated, furrowing his brow. He focused on his hands—not on how they shook, but how he saw them working in the past. Precise, delicate, impeccable.

"-And it doesn't need to be a straight one!" Jan added. He glared at her.

His hands kept shaking—he couldn't help but notice it—but apart from that, he felt something else: a swell. It started at his fingertips, rippling up his arms to make every hair stand on end. The air around him seemed to condense. Recalling a past success in his work, he moved his right hand up and his left hand down. Jan clapped excitedly when the wavy—but unwavering—line of energy appeared in front of him.

* * *

To Jan's dismay, she had to push their next session ahead one day. This dismay, however, was easily defeated by her excitement: the Ancient One had called for her.

Jan reported to outside the dining hall, dressed in heavy pants, a thick shirt, her boots, and red headscarf. While waiting for the Ancient One, she nodded to the few stragglers who left the hall. Inside, the cooks scrubbed down the long tables after another day, glancing in her direction every now and then.

The sound of shoes padding down the corridor drew Jan's attention. The Ancient One was dressed in her green winter attire—robes she rarely wore in Nepal's amicable October weather. A few more of the cooks turned to stare when she stopped by Jan.

"You're dressed warmly?"

Jan nodded, "These are the heaviest clothes I own."

The Ancient One brought out her sling ring. "Very well," she said, voice steeled. She spun a portal, a busy street appearing on the other side. "Take my arm, Jan."

They walked through together. A gust of wind pushed through Jan's headscarf the moment she stepped across and she shook her shoulders, adjusting to the sudden drop in temperature.

She was almost excited, seeing the bright fluorescent lights, car-filled street, sidewalks populated with musicians, and people selling food. A city bus stopped just past them, its sign reading _SORRY, Not In Service._ Jan became both overwhelmed and enthralled by the general noise that was machine-made, and not just created by the thousands of people that walked the streets of Kathmandu.

Jan _was_ excited, until she saw the familiar spire of the Empire State Building.

 _New York._ She'd been here before—one of the _four_ cities she'd been to, as Julia would say.

The diner they went to seemed filled to burst, yet there was an open table for two by the window. The Ancient One directed Jan towards it.

She thought their clothing—outlandishly Eastern amongst all these Americans—would attract more attention, but after looking a little closer she saw that it wouldn't be a problem. Many of the customers were wearing stranger garb than either of them.

"Halloween," the Ancient One told her as she settled into one of the chairs.

Jan continued to stare at the girl who had a fish-like monster head tucked under one arm while she sipped water through a straw. "That's the one with the costumes, right? And the... candy?" Mordo never let her have candy. He said it was detrimental to one's health. She used to steal _Maoam_ from one of the students until he found out, and banned her from it.

"Yes." The Ancient One paused to tilt her head. "And the fireworks," she said as a number of quiet _pops_ sounded off in the distance.

"I thought that was how they celebrated the new year?" Jan said. "And won't some confuse those for gunshots?" She'd been told of the West's affinity for such weapons—most notably in America.

"It is _also_ for Halloween, and yes, some might."

Before Jan could ask another fervent question, a man brought over two plates. He set the first down in front of the Ancient One and the second in front of her. Their glasses, she noticed, had already been filled with ice water.

"Oh... but we didn't order yet." She tried to politely correct the waiter's mistake until she saw what was on the plate in front of her.

"Thank you, Gordon," the Ancient One said, while Jan rubbed her eyes.

The Ancient One (as per her usual) had a Chef's salad. For this dinner, it consisted of mixed greens, grilled chicken, a sliced avocado, diced bacon, applewood cheese, and a single boiled egg.

On the other hand, Jan's food had a shorter description.

"That thing on the plate..."

The Ancient One looked up from unrolling her cutlery. "Yes?"

Jan leaned towards it, a quiet squeal escaping her. "A cheeseburger!?" She reached out to poke one of the french fries, jumping back as they still boasted the fryer's immense heat. She went quiet. "But Mordo said..."

"-That deep-fried food is the third-worst invention of mankind?"

Jan nodded, a concerned look on her face.

"Then you'd better eat it before he finds out!"

Jan giggled, then, after glancing over both shoulders, popped one of the fries into her mouth. The second, she tried with ketchup, this time groaning, _"So good."_

The Ancient One grinned. "I always like them with a little tartar."

"Doesn't that go with fish?" Jan asked, only a little surprised that she'd had fries before.

The Ancient One waved a hand, and Gordon returned to their table. At her request, he brought Jan a small cup of the aforementioned sauce. Jan had to admit it tasted quite like the dill pickles she occasionally snuck out of the kitchen.

They didn't talk for some time. Jan focused on her burger and only that—which wasn't to say the cooks back at Kamar-Taj didn't do their jobs. The food there was great—it even occasionally strayed into the European territory. But for the most part it originated solely from the markets of Kathmandu. A change to her diet (no matter how disapproved of by _some_ parties) was something she appreciated greatly.

About halfway through her ketchup, however, Jan stopped. She looked around, noting the few people that remained in the diner, then leaned over her plate.

The Ancient One looked up from her egg.

"What's this really about?" Jan asked.

Her mentor raised an eyebrow. Jan leaned back.

"Oh no, don't take this as offence! Just... I thought you were going to be teaching me." _And that I would be learning something._ Namely, she thought: astral projection.

The Ancient One nodded, finished cutting her egg, then asked, "Would you like an assignment?"

"Sur- yes!" Jan blurted out.

The Ancient One gestured out the window with her fork. "That man there." He was young, white, and scrawny, wearing a large hoodie and clutching a lunchbox in one hand. One, Jan noticed, that seemed awfully childish for his age.

"Watch him."

Jan looked between her and the twenty-something man. The Ancient One returned to her egg. Jan observed the young man.

He paced back and forth, one hand clutching the lunchbox, the other stuffed in his pocket. People walked around him, seemingly attuned to this strange behaviour. Not one stopped to ask if he was all right, each one too caught up in themselves. A bus stopped near him, letting loose half a dozen people. They also wove their way around the man, either looking to their phones, or just to the spaces next to him.

Jan was so invested in watching that she didn't even notice the car pull up. Black and unmarked, it would have remained at the back of her mind if the cop hadn't gotten out of it.

The man looked like he wanted to run. The police officer put a hand on her gun, still enclosed in its holster. Dropping the lunchbox, the man stared at the ground in a resigned way.

While Jan stared at the discarded container, everyone else in the diner watched the twenty-something get cuffed and put into the back of the car. People on the sidewalk had stopped, looking up at the display. When the man was in the car, they walked around the police officer to continue with their night.

On impact with the ground, the lunchbox had broken open. Tucked inside: plastic bags filled with white powder.

Jan blinked when the cop swept it up, packing it away along with its owner. The cop surveyed the scene, then spoke into her radio. She got into her vehicle and drove off. Soon enough, the sidewalk was swarmed with people.

Looking to the Ancient One, Jan thought of the defeated expression on the man's face.

"Now, tell me what happened," she said.

Jan looked outside. The cop car was gone, its place already filled by a taxi.

"There was a man," she said, still staring out the window. "And he was nervous. He was pacing back and forth and had a lunchbox that wasn't his—it couldn't be his, it had cartoon characters all over it." Admittedly, she knew the artwork on the outside of one's lunchbox didn't matter in validating its ownership. "Then a police officer came and arrested the man." She paused, "He didn't try and run—he didn't even fight."

"Do you think that fleeing the justice system would be the right course of action?" the Ancient One asked.

"No, no," Jan said, "but, I just thought... I thought he would resist."

"And why did you think that?" the Ancient One asked softly.

"I don't know," Jan stammered. "He had to know what he was doing, but he just seemed so... defeated." She pushed away her half-eaten meal. "Why did I watch that?"

The Ancient One sighed. "Because you needed to."

"I didn't like it." Jan shook her head. "Why didn't he try and get away? There was only one officer." Jan knew she herself could take on a dozen trained soldiers and still come out on top—but that wasn't a fair comparison. "Why was he dealing drugs in the first place?"

"Very good," the Ancient One said.

" _Very good_?!" Jan clutched her stomach.

"You're thinking _critically,_ " she said. "It's an important life skill."

Her salad was finished, but Jan still had half a burger. To avoid offending the cooks back home, Jan declined a to-go container.

As they got up to pay, she muttered, "I don't understand. Why did you- Why would I?"

"Think on these questions, Jan," the Ancient One said. "Why did he deal drugs while knowing that it's completely illegal? And why _didn't_ he run from the police officer?"

Both had been rolling around in Jan's stomach for the past five minutes.

She followed the Ancient One to the cashier, glancing back as Gordon cleared their table. Her mind buzzed in thought, barely pausing to register when the Ancient One pulled out a drawstring bag and paid for their meal in cash.

* * *

The hours Jan had left were not spent sleeping. After growing annoyed with the scent of her incense, she grabbed the wooden sticks and stamped them out on her bedside table. A few tiny scorch marks were left in their place. She turned in her bed, facing the window, the ceiling, the wall, and finally: her pillow.

The man had been so _resigned_. Bored and submissive, his expression was all she saw.

Jan thought of the Ancient One's questions until her alarm sounded, and even as she hit the off button, she couldn't help but see another question surge in front of the rest: how had the Ancient One known the man would be there? There weren't any seers currently on Earth, and time manipulation was forbidden.

* * *

 **Thank you to** nightvale-radio-intern **for following! (Love the name, btw ;)**

blackcat711: **thanks for the feedback! I'm glad you were able to understand it :)**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Difficulties Of Astral Projection Are Listed As Such... (In which something goes wrong.)

* * *

Jan wanted to ask about New York, but wouldn't. She wanted to know why the Ancient One had taken her there, but didn't. She wanted to understand the lesson she'd tried to teach, but couldn't. She was too preoccupied at the moment, upside down, having been in a hand-stand for the last twenty seconds.

"All right, that's long enough."

Jan bent at the waist, returning her feet to the floor. She took some deep breaths while her head cleared.

"Now," the Ancient One said, settling into the lotus position, "what do you know about the Cellwan world?"

Jan followed suit, crossing her feet under her thighs. "I know that the people there are relatively human, and that they're our allies." Every word had caution stowed within it. "They have a deity, right?" she said. The Ancient One dipped her head. "Right, and it takes the form of a child. When the child grows old and dies, the deity reincarnates in the next one born. They believe that their god is the source of their telepathic abilities." There were countless other notes Jan could touch on. Like the Cellwan's insistence on the host remaining unmarried, or their belief that all natural life was sacred. Or their questionable thoughts on those weren't "gifted" the constant stream of communal thought like everyone else.

"I guess we would think of that person as a beacon, or a satellite that they use." Jan didn't want to bring up the notoriously short nature of the hosts' life spans. "The Cellwan agreed to an alliance in our protection of the multiverse... Hold on, are you going to teach me telepathy?"

The Ancient One smiled. _"I will show you how to tap into that world's energy. If you are able to_ _do so_ _, then perhaps we'll move onto that."_

"Okay," Jan said. Her eyes widened. "Wait, did you just-"

 _"Yes,"_ the Ancient One said, her mouth closed. The voice—her voice—echoed around Jan's head, ringing for several seconds before it disappeared.

 _"The Cellwan world is close to ours. When you reach for it,_ _you may feel like you're_ _using_ _the energy of the Carmae."_ This was what they used to conjure their weapons and shields of light.

After years of doing that, Jan thought it would be simple to draw from another dimension. Unfortunately, she was wrong.

Twenty minutes passed, each one of them spent trying to extend her mind's reach by using the Cellwan power lent to them. Cellwan and Carmae were near each other; just inches apart, each one overlapping with Earth on their own dimensional planes. Jan had spent hours studying the connections between Earth's allies and enemies, but still, nothing happened.

She got a cruel feeling of hope when she felt a wave brush over her scalp. The Ancient One looked at her forehead quizzically. Thinking this meant success, Jan tried talking to her without using her voice. It didn't work.

The Ancient One spoke to her with ease, every one of her thoughts letting Jan know that it was okay: she didn't need to get it right just then.

Jan wondered—and then she _knew_ it was New York that held her back. Part of her mind was occupied with their previous "lesson," leaving only half to focus on the task at hand.

When she got up to leave, Jan felt thoroughly discouraged. This only increased when the Ancient One asked her if she'd been thinking about the questions.

Halfway to the door, Jan paused. "Yeah," she mumbled.

"Good."

* * *

Once back in her room, Jan slammed the door, despite the late hour. Her neighbours probably didn't appreciate it. In the darkness, she sighed, running a hand over her head. She didn't turn on any of the lights until she trudged into the washroom.

Splashing some water into her face, she looked up at her reflection in the mirror. Some hair had escaped the edge of her headscarf.

"What the..." She reached up and pulled back a fold of the fabric, convinced that this was some trick of the dim, yellow lighting. It wasn't possible— _couldn't_ be possible.

She pushed the headscarf back completely. It fell to lie around her shoulders. She tugged it off, gripping the patterned edges while fear surged up her spine.

"How on Earth?" To get a better look, she took out the pins that held her hair back. It fell, at its expected length, to below her shoulders. Her hair—though normal in every other aspect—was, unmistakably, _blond_.

* * *

Today, Jan wore her darkest headscarf. She would pay for it later, sweating profusely during the day, but she didn't feel safe otherwise. She kept worrying it might change back.

 _Don't know why you even bothered,_ she told herself. W _oke up this morning and everything was normal._

Last night she'd tried everything short of cutting it off to change the state of her hair: washing, scrubbing, static electricity—she'd even pondered sneaking into Camila's room to steal some of her dye. Jan had expected that dark black, unlike the gold, would draw less attention.

It turned out to be all for naught, because upon waking up this morning, her hair had switched back to its natural dark brown.

Jan had checked it from every possible angle, but there wasn't a blond hair in sight—like it had never happened. At this point, she'd resorted to telling herself it was the product of some failure-induced fever dream. She'd had crazy dreams as a child; ones with monsters that made her wake up screaming until she was blue in the face.

Still, her paranoia had her wearing the heaviest, darkest headscarf she owned, usually reserved for late January. It was October.

For once, she wasn't alone at her table. A trio sat at the other end, chatting quietly about a healing evaluation later in the day. Ever so often one of them snuck a look at her. Jan, with her distant stare and empty lunch tray. Then they would turn and whisper amongst themselves; something she knew didn't have much to do with a healing test. For once, Jan wished the table was empty.

"Good day." She looked up to see Strange standing above her. "Or, afternoon, I guess." He set his tray down and maneuvered onto the bench.

"Oh, hi." Jan tugged her headscarf down tighter. The action went unnoticed by Strange, who stared at her barren lunch tray.

"You're not eating anything."

She shrugged. She hadn't had breakfast either. "Not really hungry."

Strange shook his head and pushed a muffin towards her. _Here,_ his gesture said. Jan stared at it blankly, then put it on her tray.

"So," he said while he picked up a fork with shaking hands. (Forks: utensils in low quantity around here.) "What can you tell me about Jonathon Pangborn?"

Jan looked up, mainly relieved by this change in subject. _Maybe then he'll forget the muffin._ "You know him?"

"We met. Once."

"How is he?" she asked, recalling the day they'd brought his stretcher into Kamar-Taj.

Strange separated his rice and salad into two distinct piles. "He seemed well."

"Good." Jan smiled—her first of the day. "He was always nice. Really optimistic guy, considering his situation."

"Naturally," Strange said. "How did he heal his back?"

Jan looked at the white scars running up and down his fingers. _Right to the_ _point_ _._ "I don't really know," she said. "My 'tutoring' is more combat-based. You should go to Master Kaito. They spent a lot of time together."

He shook his head. "Fine then, don't tell me."

Jan chuckled, nibbling at the edge of the muffin. "Really!" she said while she covered her mouth with one hand. "He was a nice guy, he spent his time here, then he went back home."

"Just like that." Strange seemed slightly unconvinced.

Jan rolled her eyes. "Well, after like a _year_. But yeah, by then: 'just like that.' You really think I spend that much time remembering _everybody_ who comes through here?"

He scoffed. "I'd expect the ones to have a C7-C8 spinal cord injury completely _healed_ to be rather memorable."

He had a point, and she _did_ remember Pangborn.

"That was like four years ago. I was fourteen—and I try not to remember my teenage years. Too many embarrassing moments..."

One time, she and Julia were going to sneak out to the night market through the kitchen. As it turns out: sneaking in the dark is a bad idea—especially when there are piles of dishes stacked three feet high. Jan had been in charge of cleaning what ones weren't smashed, and Julia had used her allowance for six months after that to buy the replacements. Until the plates had been replaced, the cooks hadn't allowed either of them in the kitchen.

"Teenage years?" Strange said. "I think you still count as going through those..."

"Hey!" Jan threw some crumbs at him. "I am eight... teen. I am an adult. I could vote, if I had any ID..." She rolled her eyes. "I have a third-degree black belt, okay? I adult."

"Do people here vote?" he asked.

Jan nodded. "Most go back to their home countries when the time calls for it." She'd never actually voted before; Kamar-Taj didn't really fall under any jurisdiction known to the modern world.

The trio got up and walked past them. Strange watched as one girl pointed at Jan, then said something to her friend. Jan picked through the rest of her muffin before asking quite loudly, _"So,_ what can you tell me about New York?"

"Hah!" Strange laughed, "What do you want to know? The prime time for avoiding traffic?" His expression went slack. "There isn't one, if you really were wondering."

"Yeah, but what's they city like? Have you been to the Empire State building? The Met?"

"The city's a lot like Kathmandu, except the chaos is..." he waved his hand, "more organized. -And of course I've been to the Empire State building. I went to every gaudy monument that place has to offer. My parents insisted on taking me and Donna when were kids. She always enjoyed it more than I."

"Donna's your sister?" Jan asked, overlooking the shift in his tone.

"Yes, I suppose she still _is_ even though she's dead," Strange said.

Jan shrunk back as a sensation, overwhelming and cold, flew up her spine. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I know what it's like to lose someone."

"Who? Your parents?" he asked.

"No." She shook her head. "I don't have any."

"Well, everybody does," he said while managing a smile.

"I guess I meant ones that I remember," Jan said. For all that she knew, it had just been Mordo and Wong since day one. _Not like anyone else matters._ "My... my girlfriend left Kamar-Taj a few months ago. The group she went with- they're dead to us now." _It hurts_ , she wanted to say, but couldn't have this conversation be any more depressing. Jan also didn't want to tell him that he was staying in Julia's old room. That might complicate things.

"So are you thinking of moving to New York?"

She nearly spat out her muffin. "What?! No, I can't leave here. I haven't finished my training." She rolled her eyes. "I just wanted to know if you'd ever met the _Avengers_ , or something."

Strange rolled his eyes. " _Oh_. And here I thought you were interested in hearing about my work." Jan gave him a puppy-eye stare. He sighed, "No, they seem perfectly fine with staying up in that tower of theirs."

Jan smiled wistfully. "It would be so cool to see Thor, though—or Captain America! I'd love to spar with them."

Really?" Strange laughed as they got up from their table. "You don't think they'd knock you on your ass?"

"Well, they probably would!" Jan said. "But, like, what I could learn from them? It'd be totally worth it."

He chuckled, putting his tray in one of the drop-offs.

"I gotta head to the library," Jan said, making to go in a different direction. "Meet tonight? Same place?" Strange nodded.

She took off, leaving him to wonder why she seemed so content with staying in Kamar-Taj. Why didn't she travel more? They could make portals, and the Sanctum doors were directly below their feet.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"What?"

Strange abandoned his fighting stance. Six feet away from him, Jan blinked, as if just realizing where she was.

"You said you wanted me not to hold back."

She shrugged, her mind clearly elsewhere. "Yes, do that. I'll still beat you."

"Oho... are those fighting words?" he said, and they began to circle one another.

Jan raised her arms, settling into her routine of dissecting every flaw in his stance. (There were many: arms too tense, feet too close...) "They might be if you'd ever start."

"Well, how about this?" Strange reared back and pushed his hands towards her.

Jan dodged the blast, barrel rolling before leaping back to her feet. The bolt of energy sailed past where she'd just been, sizzling out the moment it touched the ground.

" _Blast from the past_? Predictable!" she laughed.

In her left hand, Jan formed a bar of energy. Ramrod straight and set to hurt, she swung it in a circle above her head. Strange stepped back, just a few paces from the edge of their ring.

As Jan swung the bar it extended so she could hit him without moving an inch. He ducked, then held his hands up, conjuring a shield that blocked her first blow.

"Don't just defend: _evade._ I'm going to keep hitting you until you move!"

"Don't I know it," Strange grumbled as he threw himself out of her path. The bar slammed into the cobblestones, dashing them to pieces.

Jan had her back to him—again. "Now, if I was a beginner," she said in a sing-song voice, "where would I try next?" Feeling the air from his oncoming blow, she ducked, giggling, "From the _blindside:_ very good, my young pupil. -But there's something important you forgot."

This made Strange pause, which gave Jan the moment she needed to spring backwards, flipping over his head. He whirled around just after she landed.

"Distractions!" Jan said. "They're very useful. And, also: gymnastics, which I've been doing since I was four."

"Four, really?" Strange looked genuinely interested.

"Yes," Jan said. She really had been that young. "But don't try that on me, I'm not so easily-" she stopped when she felt something wrap around her ankle. Looking down, a resigned "I told you so" feeling in her throat, she said, "You know, that's some really good spell-work right there."

Strange grinned, then used the whip to pull her foot out from under her.

* * *

"Ohhh, man..." Jan stared up at the darkening sky.

"Here." Strange held out a hand. She looked at it.

"No, please," she said while allowing him to pull her up, "let me wallow in my defeat."

He grabbed their water bottles, tossing hers before he sat down. The throw was bad, but Jan made a whip of her own to catch it. She placed the water bottle on the ground, then refocused her attention on the whip. Running it between her hands, she tested its strength, flexibility and stretchiness. Hers was more orange than gold.

"I've seen this before, I just didn't think of it."

Still drinking, Strange made a _hmm?_ _s_ ound from his place on the steps.

She swung it out, the pulled her arm back. The whip didn't stretch like his had. More rigid than flexible, it resembled the simplistic bars she was so comfortable with creating. Jan's improvisation, though useful, was short-lived.

"I wish I could get things that fast..."

Strange inhaled as he set down his water bottle. "Don't beat yourself up over it," he said. "I have photographic memory: it makes things easier."

Jan crossed their sparring circle to sit down next to him. "So, you're gifted."

"It's not so simple as calling it 'gifted.' I have a highly advanced cognitive ability when it comes to visual memory. This allows me to-" He saw the look she was giving him.

"Uh, yes: gifted."

He was surpassing her already; Jan could feel it. In class, he'd reached a point of middle ground—equal to most and even better than some in their lessons. Give it another month and he wouldn't need her anymore.

"You have some kind of natural ability, man—no one gets this far so quickly. Have you tried any astral projection yet—I mean, besides the trip Tao sent you on. -But have you tried it on your own, I mean?" They were set to have a demonstration next class on the safest ways to achieve astral projection.

"I have, actually," he said, completely informative, and without an ounce of smugness in his voice. "It's quite useful for studying past what my physical body can take." He assumed that Jan had been doing it—much like her martial arts training—since a very young age, so her next words surprised him.

"Really?!" Her eyes bugged out of her head, voice going quiet. "That's so cool. Already, you- Wow. You're already doing astral projection and you've only been here three _months_?" Though she said them aloud, her next words were better suited for her thoughts. " _This is what I mean._ What's wrong with me that I can't do _that?_ I've been here _all_ my life..."

"Hey, hey," Strange said, getting up from the steps. "Go easy on yourself. Surely you've managed it at least _once_."

"Well, yeah," Jan muttered. "But I always need help." _Always._

In the past, Mordo had been the one to push her soul from her body. Now the Ancient One had taken up that responsibility as she tried to help Jan understand every difference between the material and metaphysical worlds.

"-can learn to get back on your own. Take it half at a time, right?"

"What?" Jan looked up.

"Did you hear anything I just said?" He groaned when she shook her head. "Oh, come on! It was such a rousing speech of friendship and comradery! Since you've been helping me: I'll help you!"

"I think you're going about it the wrong way," Jan said. "What did you say again?"

Strange summarized it, leaving out one very important detail. "Just like you said, I'm very good at astral projection-"

"-I did not say that."

"-And you need help."

"I- yeah, I said that." Jan scratched the back of her head awkwardly.

"Ergo: I can help you!" He threw his hands up as if demonstrating the formula to eternal life.

"And have you _ever_ pushed someone's soul out of their body?"

This made him pause. "Well, no, that's important. I actually haven't done that before."

By this point, Jan was willing to try anything. Maybe he would change something—trigger whatever was holding her back.

"Not like that was reassuring or anything," she glanced at the horizon, "but we still have some time before sundown." She held out her arms. "Take my soul away, Strange."

"Wait, really?"

"Consider yourself lucky I skipped dinner this evening," Jan said, and closed her eyes. "You probably won't get another time when my stomach is this empty."

"Well technically your stomach is never truly-" he stopped when one of her eyes snapped open. "Right. On it."

Her brow creased when he put one hand on her shoulder, the other moving to her forehead like the Ancient One had done to him. To their right, the sun slinked back behind a distant mountain range, shooting up a few final rays into the sky.

Thumb on her forehead, index finger over her brow, Strange searched for Jan's inner eye. Above them, the stars had already begun to glitter. A breeze travelled through the garden, rustling the leaves along with their clothes.

Jan felt an uneasy tugging in her lower back. She seemed to fall backwards while part of her stayed behind. The ground flew away a couple feet at a time, courtyard sinking beneath her feet. She gasped, but Strange didn't hear her.

She couldn't compare it to swimming. She just _willed_ herself to move, and she did.

She floated down to her body—her _physical_ body—as Strange laid her out on the cobblestones. Jan smiled appreciatively when he arranged her headscarf so that it stayed in place. He moved several feet away, and followed suit.

"Wow," she muttered, "I have a bad unconscious face."

"Unconscious face?"

"Gaah!" Jan jumped (as much as she could) away from Strange, now also in his astral form.

He chuckled. "You're really not used to this, are you?"

"Only enough as I can be," she scoffed. "My time in the astral dimension is always limited, seeing as I can't go alone." Like she was a child again: not allowed to cross the market street unless she was holding Wong's hand.

"Then what are we doing staying here?" Strange said.

They flew through Kamar-Taj— _flew_ , though flying was supposed to be an abstract art. The slower she moved, the more things she affected.

Inside the Library, Jan shuffled a pile of books around inside a study cubby, confusing their user to no end. Avoiding the mens' showers, she swooped through one wall into the kitchen. The cooks were cleaning the countertops, while those on scullery duty worked away at a towering pile of dishes.

Strange winced when he saw the steaming hot water. "That looks painful." The punishment for continued lateness: they weren't allowed to use magic. It had to be done completely by hand.

"Like you wouldn't believe!" Jan giggled as she flew through the roof, soaring back into the open air.

The monastery shrunk beneath her as she went higher and higher, only pausing to get an arial view of Kathmandu. Strange took some time to catch up, bewildered by her sudden grasp of the astral realm. He heard her humming a song.

"What's that?" he asked. It sounded nice: like something one might sing to a child.

She stopped, frozen in thought, then pointed to a twinkling light in the city. "Last one to Zhou's buys dessert for a week!" Cackling, she set off through the air, moving further away from Kamar-Taj.

"Hey!" he called. "I don't think we should go so far!"

"What? Read that in one of your books?" Jan was already far ahead of him.

She beat him to Zhou's, a tourist gift shop bustling with activity despite the hour, and no matter how much he protested her cheating, she wouldn't let up on how many sweet rolls he owed her.

Jan danced in between the pedestrians, dodging the scooters and leaping over the animals. She passed an alley where Strange stopped and fell behind her. Looking back, she saw his transparent form kneel down next to a small dog. He didn't touch it, knowing that an invisible hand would only cause a great deal of barking.

She waited for him to look up, then flew down another side street. Jan passed a gang huddled together, an elderly couple sipping tea, some cats fighting over a bird carcass, and finally, she stopped outside an empty restaurant.

Instantly reminded of New York, she moved away from the storefront. _Why did he do it, despite the risk? And_ _w_ _hy_ didn't _he run from the officer?_

Strange found her there, floating a few feet from the window, a distant expression on her face. The nighttime crowds passed them by, often passing _through_ them when they walked close enough to the storefront. He scrutinized her from a distance, trying to understand what was wrong.

When he sidled up to her, Jan said, "I think it's time to go back," the fun all but sucked from her voice.

They sat in the courtyard, on the steps, just a few metres from their physical bodies. Strange used up the time by swiftly running his hand through one of the pillars. He had to be quick, or else it got stuck. Jan was staring at herself, laid out on the ground: completely vulnerable in those moments.

"Reminds me of Masego," she said. _But with a head._ Strange stopped what he was doing and looked at her. The name, though familiar, wasn't triggering anything in his most present memories.

Jan wrapped her arms around herself. "He was the librarian before Wong. I... I was the one who found his body."

"I've heard of him," Strange said.

"He'd been here as long as Kaecilius. Almost ten years of service: all lost at the expense of a couple sheets of paper." She took a deep breath. "He would always be angry with me when I was younger." She rubbed her eyes, pushing back tears that weren't for him. "I just wanted to read the books outside, where it was sunny. I didn't understand how old and valuable some of them were. Once, he yelled at me for it. Guess it got to be a bit much. ...I was ten years old, reading clear Sanskrit, and I couldn't get the concept of how sunlight damages a five-hundred-year-old textbook."

"You were a child," Strange said.

"Yeah." Jan got up and stepped away from him. "A stupid one." She shook her head. "And I'm stupid now. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._ " Every time she uttered 'stupid', Jan punctuated it with a punch to her forehead. Somehow, even in this form, she could still do it.

"Hey, hey!" Strange jumped up and went over to her. He peeled her hand away. "Stop that. You'll hurt yourself."

Jan gently pulled her hand out of his. She looked over the cityscape, remembering all the people she saw.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"Of what?"

"Of what happens next." As she spoke, a gust of wind burst through the courtyard, ruffling the clothes on their physical bodies. Strange was silent. Jan turned back to him. "What, do you think we're training for the fun of it?"

"Well, no," he said. They all had their reasons.

Jan laughed. "No, exactly: _no,_ we're not!" Her voice rose before falling back down. "There's an endgame. The pages were stolen, which means its coming soon."

On an instinct, Strange moved a little closer to her translucent form. But before he could try and console her in any way, she said, short and detached, "I'd like to get back in my body now."

"Okay," he said. Then, trying to lighten the mood, "But remember our deal: on your own."

Jan rolled her eyes, the sarcasm coming back as easily as breathing. "Right. I don't ever get a break." At the sight of his concerned expression she waved him off. "I'll be fine. Need to divert this stress into something, right?"

He took that as a sign of her returning to form. "It's like stepping into a lake," he said by way of explanation. "It'll be all right, I promise."

"See you on the other side," Jan said, wiggling her fingers.

He floated over to his own body. Strange breathed in, then the gold energy that composed his astral form was sucked back into the physical world. Soul and matter, as one.

Jan floated above hers just low enough that it looked like she was standing on her own chest. She thought of the material world: the place where she felt pain, and had to deal with her problems. She hated it there.

Tapping her hands against her sides, she breathed in.

She exhaled... and nothing changed. While Stephen got up and moved around, her body remained motionless. Jan tried again, willing herself to become one, but she remained translucent, corporeal, ghost-like... stuck.

A wall was blocking her. A barrier of feelings and emotions and names and distractions stopped her from moving any further. Jan thought of Julia—a name that hadn't crossed her mind since entering the astral dimension. She didn't know why—why now?—that it plagued her, blocked her, stopped her.

If she hadn't already, Jan began to feel light-headed. It sucked at her chest, drawing away at any breath she hoped to use. The feeling burrowed and clawed at her neck. In a few seconds she found that she couldn't think any longer. What was she doing here? What _had_ she been doing? Why wasn't it working? Why did her chest hurt?  
No. Not her chest.

With a gasp, Jan was pulled back into her body. Strange, too, was gasping. He supported her back and shoulders as she readjusted to the gravity, asking if she was okay; asking what had gone wrong?

"Do you need help?"

 _My heart,_ Jan thought before she puked all over his shoes.

* * *

 **A/N: Woo! That was a long one! This is a chapter I've been wanting to share with your guys for a long time :) I'd love to hear your thoughts on it!**

 **Thanks to** flarerfire123 **for following this story :) I hope you enjoy the ride!**

Kenobi1: **Thank you for your kind words :) 3 I'm glad you enjoyed the bits with Stephen (hope the same goes for this chapter ;) As for the answers... They will come in their time.**

 **Maybe ;p (Also thank you for favouriting and following this story—I think I forgot to mention it in past chapters... *hides in shame* Forgive me?)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Woke up this morning realizing that I forgot to post this yesterday! AHHH! Apologies for the unnecessary wait; see the end for your usual author's note.**

Chapter 8: "Adept At Sneaking Around Dimly-Lit Castles" Has A High Place On My Resumé. (In which a revelation occurs.)

* * *

"Once, in this room, you begged me to let you learn. Now I'm told you question every lesson, preferring to teach yourself."

Stephen's mind was elsewhere, drawn back to the previous week: Jan's fear, her sick, her cries of " _Don't touch me!_ " when he'd tried to help her.

He hadn't gotten a chance to tell her it was okay. The vomit was disgusting, sure, but he knew she hadn't done it on purpose. He wished they'd gotten a chance to clarify the situation—to understand what had gone wrong with her return journey.

"And I see you've been receiving tips from our youngest acolyte." The Ancient One looked at him, judged him.

Strange grimaced. Did she know what had happened? "Yes, well..." _She offered?_ "She's been very helpful."

The Ancient One stood in the centre of the room, just below where the ceiling tilted up into a distant skylight. She furrowed her brow. "Know this, Mister Strange: Jan is young, and fragile, and a danger—most notably to herself. But, with practice, to those nearest to her as well."

Stephen frowned, and she continued.

"Tread carefully in your friendship with her. If any harm were to result of it, I assure you our librarian would have something to say about it."

"Is that a threat?" He couldn't hide the accusatory tone in his voice.

The Ancient One shook her head, reaching for the wooden fan inside her robes. "No. Never a threat. A warning, Mister Strange, and simply that." She sighed, then changed direction. "You're advancing quickly with your sorcery skills. You need a safe place to practice your spells."

The Ancient One turned away from him. Stretching out her right arm, she reached for something he could not see. With a twist of her palm, she splayed her fingers up towards the ceiling. Ahead of them, what Stephen saw became clouded by a fractured, mirror-version of itself.

* * *

Book tucked under one arm, Jan trudged down the tower staircase. The heights hadn't been helping her study, so she was headed outside. At the bottom of the stairs, she was faced with a hall that lead a swift path to the outdoors.

She made it halfway before her stomach lurched. Reeling in anticipation, she stumbled towards the wall. She still felt sick from the previous week, no matter how much tea she drank. She'd been skipping most meals, as an empty stomach seemed to be the only thing that helped—or, at least, didn't make it hurt anymore.

"I don't believe Wong allows the books to be taken out of doors."

Jan closed her eyes at the sound of Mordo's voice. She straightened her posture out of habit as he caught up to her.

His heavy, outdoor robes were gone. He wore only his training garb, with the Staff of the Living Tribunal tucked into his belt. She knew he didn't have a class to teach just now, so who would he be sparring with?

Jan grimaced, hiding the fatigue that poked at the small of her back. "It's nice outside; I don't think he'll mind."

They walked together, passing an empty classroom on the way. Jan squinted as they went into the sunlight. When she rubbed her eyes, Mordo noted the queasy pallor in her cheekbones.

They were in one of the smaller courtyards. The Ancient One was here as well, Jan noticed, overseeing a combat assessment between a pair of third-years.

"I spar with Strange this afternoon," Mordo said, surveying an open circle.

"Oh?" Jan hadn't spoken to him since her fuck-up. That, combined with her hair changing colour, had led to a week of headaches and shoulder cramps. Her sleeping schedule was offset to late nights, and she barely made it to class in time. Despite these setbacks, she hadn't skipped or missed a single one. Maybe this time it had been for the worse. "Go easy on him for me?"

"I doubt I will," Mordo said. "You've taught him how to conjure a decent weapon by now?"

Jan nodded. "He's more than got the hang of it. Next time I'm-" She stopped herself. Jan didn't think there was going to be a next time—not after the literal mess she'd made.

 _I was planning to introduce him to shields, next. Can't fight without a good defen_ _c_ _e._

"Yeah, you'll still kick his ass, but I think he'll last at least a minute or two," Jan said.

"Good," Mordo said. "-I heard you're attending classes regularly."

As he talked, Jan trudged over to a tree and sat down on the concrete barrier that bordered it. She closed her eyes as the shade washed over her. _He's looking out for me again?_ She knew he'd never really stopped: he'd just been less obvious and more gruff.

"I have been," she murmured. Not that her head thanked her for it. "That reminds me," she patted the book, now placed in her lap, "I need to get to the healing centre: I have a shift." For what good it would do. "Try not to send him my way?"

Mordo refrained from chuckling. "What happens to him depends entirely on how he defends himself."

Jan stood up, a frown cementing itself in her features. _Or you could just go easy on him._ But she knew Mordo didn't consider "easy" when drilling a lesson into someone's mind.

Over his shoulder, Jan spotted a figure dressed in red walking towards them. Before he got any closer, she looked away and made off in the other direction.

"Was that Jan?" Strange asked as he got close to Mordo.

"Yes," he said. "Are you prepared?"

"Sure, but what was she-"

"That's not important." Mordo pointed to an open sparring circle. He took his staff from his belt and twirled in a dizzying motion. Strange watched, unable to look away, until he realized that _he_ didn't have a weapon.

Mordo went to one side of the circle, Strange the other. Strange looked to the right, where the Ancient One was observing a duel between a pair of trainees.

"So," he said, "just how ancient is she?"

* * *

Jan groaned. "I told him to go easy on you."

Strange stood in the doorway to the healing centre, one hand pressed to his cheek. From underneath it she could already see the bruise, rapidly blooming into a dark purple. He shrugged, dejected and sheepish.

Jan sighed, looking over her cluttered workspace. In one sweep, she cleared text, pencils, and notepad to the side. Another brought some bandages, a small pot of salve, and a stethoscope in front of her.

"Take a seat," she said, pointing over her shoulder. She kept her back turned until he sat down on one of the beds.

Jan pulled his hand away, grimacing as she saw the full extent of the mark. "Ice, ice," she murmured to herself. "You need some of that."

It wasn't until Jan retrieved the pack from the cooler that she realized he was actually more qualified than her to handle this.

"Did he get you anywhere else?" she asked, handing him the ice pack.

"Throat," Strange rasped after taking it from her and pressing it to his cheek.

"How?" Jan asked before she could stop herself.

"Staff," he said, then dissolved into a series of coughs. Jan stepped away to let him finish.

"You let him get behind you," she said. _Mordo must've used his boots—_ _o_ _r just the skill he has_ _on him_ _._

Strange closed his eyes, attempting a smile that barely made it halfway across his face.

Jan returned to her book, being careful to keep an eye on him, lest he collapsed.

"What, that's all you're going to do?" he said while propping himself up on his elbow.

Jan shook her head. "I'm just standing in for someone. You can use the ice for your throat too, and besides, we don't use magic for something so trivial."

"Me?" he laughed.

"Your face," she whispered.

He chuckled, then coughed, slapping a hand to his chest. Jan walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you should just focus on breathing. And lie down. Rest, or something."

"I'll be fine," he gasped, but leaned his head back in the same instance. "Totally fine: I know he didn't mean it."

 _To beat you up?_ Jan wanted to say. No, not in such a brutal context. Mordo didn't work like that. However, he could get carried away—even towards his friends.

Jan had never experienced that. With her, he'd always been strict, but never brutal.

 _Until now,_ she thought. _Until the time called for it._

She helped him lie down on the cot. He closed his eyes and kept the ice pack over his face.

Jan went back to her book, had grabbed a pencil, and was about to scribble a note into the margin of her paper when Strange started to talk again.

"You're quieter than usual." And not in her angsty, angry-at-everyone teenage way. Quiet like she had closed in on herself. "Are we really not going to address-"

"I'm sorry I puked on your shoes," Jan blurted out. "All right? Okay? Is that enough?"

"That's not what I meant," Strange said, still flat on his back.

A doodle in her notebook—it took up more than the margins. The dragon's fire stretched from edge to edge, her notes scribbled around it in a dashed cursive only she could read. Specific remedies to various injuries. She didn't plan to go into healing.

"What do you know about his past?" Strange asked. "Where did he train?"

"Here," Jan said simply, "and other places." She knew stories—rumours, really—of Mordo's years as a soldier. He never talked about it to her.

He gave her a look.

"Yes," she said, still focusing on her paper. "That's all. His past—even if I knew all the details—is not mine to divulge."

"Well, what about yours?"

"Well what, then?" Jan muttered. "Mine's the same, I guess. I've always been here."

She turned around when he didn't reply. "What? Want me to reveal everything I feel? Tell you everything I want to do, because there's a lot, and _none_ of it's going to happen!"

"Oh, come on," he said. "You must have _some_ ambitions. What's your plan when you leave here?"

 _Leave?_ Jan never thought about leaving Kamar-Taj. It was her home. If you had one of those, you held on tight and never let it go.

"Don't you want to see the world?" he asked. "Those sling rings have to get used for _some_ place other than Everest. Actually, if you're thinking of going it solo, I could give you some tips. I know a thing or two about travelling-"

Jan broke her pencil in half, snapping it in between fingers and thumbs. "Enough," she growled. _This has to_ stop. Her voice softened. "Enough, all right? You're not my damn psych."

"I actually minored in psychology," he said.

"I didn't think you would've bothered with anything minor," she muttered.

"That's... not what that means."

Jan shook her head. "This is all embarrassing. _You're_ the injured one here—stay injured!"

"Rude," he said, "and that's not what I meant. I had to bring you back, Jan. Something went wrong, and if I hadn't been there, you would've been stranded."

"Yeah, well why do you think I've always needed help? I can't do it alone. ...Can't do some stupid astral projection even though I've read every book like five times over..." Jan scuffed one of her feet against the floor.

"Something held you back," Strange said, sitting up on the bed. "And I think it had to do with the conversation we had."

She looked away.

"...Jan?"

 _Here's the part where you cry._ She hated crying in front of people.

 _Except you_ _can't_ _: don't be weak._ She shook her head. "I choked, all right? I thought of my ex, and what's going to happen, and I choked! Is that what you want to hear?"

"What happens next?" Strange asked. "Something to do with what's in the Mirror Dimension?"

"Oh, she showed you the Mirror Dimension—ugh, no! It's not that, it's just—Camila! Thank goodness you're here!"

Strange looked to the older woman standing in the doorway, her mouth slightly agape. "I can come back another time..." she began.

"Nope!" Jan shook her head. "Nope! If you're here to finish your shift, I'm heading out." Before they could say anything else, she gathered up her things and ran out the door.

"What..." she said, looking between Strange and the direction Jan had gone, "...was that about? And what are you here for?"

Strange sighed and pressed the ice pack over his eye, enjoying the few moments of peace before he was, inevitably, kicked out.

* * *

The day's events left Stephen beleaguered and half-awake. He'd been beaten in a duel, kicked out of the healing centre, and left with more questions than answers about the people he worked with. What threats did the Mirror Dimension hold? How old was the Ancient One? Where did Mordo and Jan come from to make them so guarded? Why had there only been one wonton in his soup that evening?

He hadn't seen Jan for the rest of the day—not even at dinner time. Stephen had sat with Mordo and Wong, who'd exchanged looks, but didn't bring up her absence. He hadn't seen her at any meals for at least three days.

The lamps lining the hall lit the way to his dorm. Stephen cast a long shadow along the wall to his right.

As he was about to turn a corner, he stopped, hearing someone cry out. The frightened cry dissipated as quickly as it had surfaced. Maybe he had imagined it...?

There it was again! Every instinct in his body told him it was someone in need. He went to the nearest door and tried the handle. It turned smoothly and without sound.

Compared to the fire-lit ambiance of the corridor, the room held a much colder, much bluer light. Though the window was closed off, there was enough light from the unlikely source for him to see.

He crept over to the bed, where, five feet off the ground, Jan floated, suspended in the air by three blue circles. She appeared to be sleeping. He thought as much until she cried out in fear.

A bad dream, was his first thought. That seemed silly. Jan was too strong to be affected by childish visions.

Stephen thought to catch her: Jan could be hurt if she fell from that height. He was about to touch her shoulder when-

"Strange, what are you doing here?" Wong hissed at him, half concerned, half infuriated.

The door was now wide open, spilling light into the dorm room. Stephen looked at him, then to Jan's floating body. "I- I heard-"

The door closed with a firm push of Wong's hand. He bustled past Stephen, moving him aside to stand next to the bed. Jan's body writhed back and forth. He stared up at her, and winced as she cried out again.

"Is this some kind of astral projection?" Stephen asked hesitantly.

"Does it look like it?" Wong shook his head, muttering, "You should not be here: this isn't for you to see."

It was a bit late for that. Stephen needed answers—did this have something to do with her block the other day?

"Oh, but that can't be helped. You're here now: bring me a cup of water." He pointed to the washroom.

"I- What?" Stephen said. "No, you need to _explain_ what this is—is it some kind of ritual-"

"I do not need to explain!" Wong snapped, voice rising just above a whisper. "You need to bring me that water, then, just-" he grumbled, "Just stand over there!"

Stephen stared at him for a moment, then nodded and went to the sink. While he turned the nozzle, he snuck a glance at Wong. He adjusted the covers on Jan's bed, its owner still floating five feet above it.

"Thank you," Wong said when Stephen placed the cup on her bedside table.

Wong stood at Jan's bedside, staring up at her body. Stephen chose to look around her room. It had a much more "lived in" feeling than his, with posters covering the walls and a basket of yet-to-be-folded laundry near the door. Papers covered the top of her wooden desk, some blank, some with detailed sketches.

A tall bureau stood next to the window. The window, which was closed off to the outside. Three coat hangers held a windbreaker, a backpack, and some brightly-coloured scarves. One portion of the wall was covered in paint splatters. He couldn't quite tell what each colour was. It seemed like the spur-of-the-moment project a ten-year-old might try.

Another fearful cry broke his train of thought. Jan twisted in the air, nearly brushing up against the light on the ceiling.

"You're not going to bring her down?" he asked.

"She'll return to us when she's ready," Wong said.

"Of course," Stephen said, and turned away. Then, just for a moment, the blue light in the room intensified. He looked to Jan. The energy around her expanded, then shrunk suddenly. Sucked back to whatever dimension it came from, she was left without anything to support her.. Jan fell to her bed, where Wong was waiting to catch her.

Wong knelt and immediately pressed two fingers to the underside of her wrist. Eyes closed, he waited in silence. Once assured that her heart rate was normal, he folded her headscarf into a neat pile and placed it next to the cup of water.

Stepping forward, Stephen peered over his shoulder to look at her face. Jan's brow was scrunched up, deep in thought, but her mouth had gone slack. She seemed normal in every way, if not for the slight blue tinge lining her cheekbones.

Stephen stepped back as her feet twitched. He feared it would start all over again, but she was only waking up.

"Wong?" he heard her whisper, voice barely above a croak. She started to say something else, but dissolved into a series of whimpers.

Wong held her hand as he helped her sit up. He reached for the cup, while still supporting her back. "You had a nightmare, songbird," he said while tucking the blanket around her shoulders.

Though he knew he was intruding on their moment, Stephen couldn't look away. Jan just sat there, shaken, but completely unaware of what she'd been doing. Levitation wasn't something you just _did_. He only knew of a few relics that allowed the user to fly—and here she hadn't even been using one.

He didn't think Jan knew she'd been floating.

Jan shuddered, drawing her knees up to her chest. "It was so _dark_..."

Wong shook his head. "Just a nightmare, songbird." He brushed stray hairs from her forehead, and Stephen noted the sweat that decorated her brow.

"And there were these _eyes..._ "

"I promise it wasn't real. You are always here."

Stephen wondered how many times Wong had made that promise.

* * *

 **A/N: A little prelude to the mystery of Jan's power ;) Again, I'm sorry for the late update, I just completely forgot it yesterday with everything that was going on.**

 **Thank you to** kittyitty6 **for following 3 :) I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

Kenobi1: **I'm so glad you enjoy it! (And it's good to hear that the way I'm writing Strange works for you...) This story has been a joy to write and it's great to hear that you like it :)**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: I Don't Know Why But the Microwave Clock Keeps Flashing '666.' (In which the end is nigh.)

* * *

From the highest window in Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One observed her youngest student.

Some twenty feet below, Jan danced through the vegetable garden, listening to music on a dated MP3 player. She paused every so often, watering can abandoned on the ground, to change the song. As she was known for her awful singing voice, people avoided the garden when she worked there.

"Ancient One," Wong repeated. "It happened again last week: Jan had one of her spells." He only waited this long at her request. The last time Wong had told her right away, there had been another the same evening.

The Ancient One nodded and Wong joined her at the window. "Was there anything else this time?"

Past instances had included Jan falling through floors (specifically in the Library), spontaneous—and unconscious—astral projection, and light emitting from her forehead and ears.

"She levitated again," Wong said. "And... Strange saw her as well."

The Ancient One looked at him, surprise etched into her forehead. "How did he react?"

"Confused. He nearly tried to pull her down."

"That wouldn't have been good." They knew from her earliest instances that disturbing Jan could have disastrous consequences.

"I told Strange not to tell anyone—especially her," Wong said.

The Ancient One nodded. "A sound decision."

Wong paused, watching Jan dance in the garden. She had created tendrils of gold energy, barely visible in the midday sun, and used them to slice the apples at their stems. She caught each one in a wicker basket at her feet, using the magic to direct the way they fell.

"There is something else on your mind," the Ancient One said, observing Wong's concentrated look.

He blinked, brought back to the present. "Yes." She already sensed what he was going to say. "I believe it's getting worse. -I told you what happened with the chair."

"You said it was levitating, and she hadn't noticed."

"And when I went back it had disappeared," he grumbled. Wong didn't feel the need to remind her of the scorch marks in its place. Though he was certain Jan had done nothing to (directly) vaporize it like that, it still frightened him. He sighed, "Even after we held her back, her sleep is still out of control. And I know-"

"You want me to discontinue her training with Strange," the Ancient One concluded. _Forbid her_ , was more like it. It wouldn't go over well—she knew that much.

"I think that if she—and we—are to remain safe, that is the only option. With Kaecilius and his zealots travelling unaccounted for, we don't know when they might attack... We don't know how she would react: you know how close she was to many of them."

The Ancient One, having seen a great more battles and having taught many more people than Wong, had a bit more faith in Jan. However, she was almost completely uncertain of how the young woman's mind worked, "Then I suppose it's a small grace she did not desert us for him."

Wong looked at her. They both knew Jan would never have done such a thing. But it felt somewhat relieving, after four months of waning tension, to hear it said aloud.

"Send her to me, Wong."

Surprised, he watched as the Ancient One crossed her room to an ornate chest. "You'll do it now?"

She cocked her head. "I'll do something."

After he left, walking faster than he normally did, she opened the chest.

* * *

Jan parted ways with Wong outside the Library. He returned to his duties while she'd been directed to see the Ancient One.

Since the trip to New York, Jan had been holding back in her private lessons: her portals couldn't go farther than the outskirts of the city; conjuring shapes, shields, and weapons seemed to fail her past any basic forms; and when asked about turning invisible, Jan felt like she wanted to disappear—yet was incapable of doing so. All of these personal setbacks only seemed to arise in the Ancient One's presence.

And at all costs, she avoided the subject of astral projection.

As of late, her tutoring sessions with Strange had been discontinued. They sat apart in the dining hall, an arrangement Jan thought suited her.

Though she danced in the garden, it was to hide her fear. A fear that if she paused and thought of a certain person, she would be paralyzed within her own body.

The door was open when Jan got to the Ancient One's room. She entered, seeing that she had just finished laying out some weapons on on a table. Each one unique in their own right, was placed on a soft velvet cloth. The Ancient One turned around after Jan stepped inside.

Before Jan could ask what was going on (she already knew how to use a khopesh and a chain), the Ancient One said, "It's time for your to start training with a relic."

Forgetting her self-induced setbacks, Jan's eyes widened. Her _own_ relic? Her very own relic (which has undoubtedly had multiple past owners)? Training with it? Today?

Of course, in the three languages she knew, the only word Jan mustered up was, "Really?"

The Ancient One smiled at the squeak in her voice. "Yes: so choose one."

Jan paused, halfway towards gripping the ice-white dagger at the centre of the line up. "Wait... doesn't it choose me?" Mordo had always been terribly insistent about that. "I thought it took years for warrior and relic to bond... I'm just picking one now?"

"That's how you start," the Ancient One chuckled.

Jan regarded her cautiously. What had she done to deserve this? Why _now_? Was this the reason Wong had been so brusque? When did the relic decide? But if she was choosing it, how _did_ the relic decide? Would it reject her? Or was it more of a push and pull, fifty-fifty game between them? Should she really be asking these questions out loud?

"What if I'm not ready?" _Really?!_ That's _the one you say out loud?_

"Ready to wield it or ready to learn?"

Jan started to say something, but the Ancient One stopped her. "You're ready to learn, Jan, and when the world calls for it, you'll carry whichever you choose."

This all sounds very doomsday-like, Jan thought. But she couldn't help but be excited at the thought of finally getting to use a relic!

She scanned the line-up of weapons. Some were obvious in that they were daggers or staffs—clearly meant for combat. Others, like the silver rope, or the sword-less handle, didn't give away their purpose at first glance. What were they capable of? How far had they come to be in the Ancient One's possession?

At one end lay a staff—more like a stick, measuring at one foot long—with golden slashes across one side. To its left, the hilt of a sword wrapped in leather—only it had no blade. Engrossed in her deliberation, Jan didn't see the sad look on the Ancient One's face.

Jan knew that every one of these relics would have their difficulties and their quirks, their ticks and their frustrations. So imbued with magic beyond their capability, the objects often grew personalities of their own. But none of these seemed all too eager to jump into her hand.

"What does this one do?" she asked, pointing to the lone handle.

The Ancient One's face was impassive. "If the relic accepts your choosing, I will show you."

Jan didn't feel pulled to any of the objects, contrary to her previous assumptions. None of them cried out _"me, me!"_ , verbally orotherwise. She was tempted to flip a coin, but thought it would make her seem unprofessional.

Jan chose the handle because it seemed the most unsuspecting. Part of her screamed to put it back, to go for the ice-white dagger—the _cool,_ ice-white dagger—but she held her choice aloft for the Ancient One to see.

She nodded. "The Six Whips of Gandren."

Jan scoffed as she took the handle from her. "More like the no whips of Gandren."

The Ancient One gave her a look, then motioned for Jan to stand at her side.

She watched as the Ancient One flexed her fingers. The handle, still clutched in her right hand, began to glow, lighting up red criss-crossing patterns Jan hadn't been able to see before. The handle's end sprouted red, glowing tails, each one about the circumference of a finger. All _six_ of them, Jan assumed.

The Ancient One reared back, then flicked the whips forward. They synchronously wrapped around a vase, and threw it to the other side of the room. Jan didn't blink—not even when the vase smashed against the wall. It shattered, flung by the whips, into a dozen, painted pieces.

The Ancient One sighed, looking down at the weapon in her hand. "I was aiming to close the door."

Jan, on the other hand, was overwhelmed with excitement.

"Ohmygoodness! That was so. Cool! Can you do it again? I want to see so I can try and copy it—not, I mean, on one of your priceless vases," it looked like that had been her _only_ priceless vase, "but, like, on an apple, or something!"

The Ancient One pressed the handle into Jan's palm, the whips now retracted.

"Something to note," she said, "is that if this relic chooses you, it will connect to your emotions."

"Uhuh, uhuh, cool cool." Jan was too busy looking over her new toy.

"The intensity of the energy is controlled at the same rate you command your emotions—both positive and negative." The Ancient One produced her fan, gripping it tightly. "The _intensity_ is what effects how much it will harm organic matter."

Jan nodded. "Yeah yeah, for sure." Then she asked, "Can you use every relic in Kamar-Taj?"

"Not all at once," the Ancient One chuckled. "I don't have enough hands for that. But I do _know_ how to use them all, yes. That knowledge is passed down to every Sorcerer Supreme."

She patted Jan's shoulder, noting the young woman's continued awe at the relic. She'd seen that look hundreds of times. And more than once with that same relic.

"Go down to the garden," the Ancient One said. "Become accustomed to it; we'll start training again tomorrow." There was a mournful note in her voice when she said "tomorrow."

Jan nodded eagerly, heading towards the door. She would go down to the garden and try to meld with the relic. Filled with happiness, it would come easily to her, and for the rest of the day she would use the whips to pluck apples from the tree. Because of her jovial attitude, only a few of them would be singed.

The next day she would train with the Ancient One, be introduced to new forms and concepts: each one relating to the use of the relic. She would apologize to Stephen and offer to spar with anyone who needed extra practice in the coming weeks. She would take Wong up on the offer of learning Cantonese, eventually adding a fourth language to her repertoire. Mordo would award Jan her fourth-degree black belt, a classification she had been idly working towards for the past two years.

All would be well—if the bell hadn't tolled.

Bells, plural, to be specific. Each one of them sounded from beneath their feet, low and foreboding.

Jan froze, instinctively clutching the handle. "One of the sanctums?" _She hadn't_ _heard_ _a distress call_ _since her childhood._

" _London_ ," was all the Ancient One said before an explosion rocked the floors beneath them.

* * *

"Are you all right? No, she's not okay—help her up."

The Ancient One strode through the halls, pausing to check every room. A number of residents had fallen, driven to the ground by the tremors. Dozens of people asked her what was going on, all of them looking for guidance. She didn't answer, her sights set ahead, so their questions fell the young woman who trailed behind her.

Jan followed at her heels, answering what questions she could.

"Where did that come from?" Camila asked, face white with fear.

Jan gripped her shoulder in passing. "She suspects it's the London Sanctum."

"Are we being attacked?" someone else cried. Jan walked ahead to the young man, trying—with difficulty—to keep pace with the Ancient One.

"No, not us," she said. "But if London _has been_ , alert the healers—they'll need every second to prepare to receive the wounded." _If there even_ were _any survivors._

"What's going on?" a woman asked desperately. Jan didn't have an answer for that.

Kamar-Taj was their sanctuary—their training grounds. Kaecilius—she was sure it was him—wouldn't attack here, would he?

If he wouldn't stoop so low, that meant he would be going after the sanctums: they needed to be warned.

Jan quickened her pace as she entered the Library, slowing only as she passed a frightened bookshelver. She grabbed his arm. "Make sure they send messages to New York and Hong Kong: they could be attacked next." She was already running down to the Masters' section before he turned and sprinted in the other direction.

The meeting pedestal—where the Eye of Agamotto usually sat—was nowhere to be seen. Rubble and smoke surrounded the area. Jan covered her mouth, joining the Ancient One to stare at the state of the doors.

Hong Kong was cracked, but intact. New York had a giant boulder blocking it. They wouldn't be getting there anytime soon. But London... London's was _gone._

To their left, someone staggered out of the smoke, pulling a larger figure with them.

"Mordo, what happened here?" The Ancient One remained where she was, but Jan rushed to help him carry Wong.

"Oh, your foot-" she began, but he waved her off.

"I'm fine, I'm fine—really! I can stand." He did, unwaveringly, when they let him go, but Jan wouldn't move from his side.

"It's Kaecilus," he confirmed. "He detonated some kind of bomb within the London Sanctum. The door was open when he did, and we- wait." He looked around. "Where's Strange?"

"He was with you?" the Ancient One said.

"Yes, he was just... here."

They all stared at the ground. There was no way to know what had happened to him.

They all migrated upstairs to the dining hall, where already a few strangers were making their way through unstable portals. Not one was without injury. The worst collapsed the moment they knew they were in Kamar-Taj, helped to cots by waiting healers.

The ones that were better off—if you could even call it that—stared, at the walls, numb with fear.

On all of them, Jan saw bloody slashes, each marked by the same purple tinge.

"Here, Jan, help him." Someone handed an older sorcerer off to her. Her knees buckled under his dead weight. He muttered to himself, reaching for her support. Jan carried him to one of the cots, where he promptly collapsed. She stepped aside as a healer rushed over.

Jan turned around to see Wong disappear through a portal of his own making. She saw a busy street side and a fluorescent sign with Chinese lettering and knew where he was going.

"Wong, wait!" _We have to stay together._ But he'd already gone. He needed to protect his home.

"Jan!" She whirled around to the source of the voice. "Help the wounded." The Ancient One stood next to Mordo, who was spinning a portal of his own.

"Can't I go with you?" Jan cried.

The Ancient One pointed to the handle; Jan's would-be relic. "Keep that with you!" They stepped through before Jan could protest, closing the portal behind them.

The heat in the room grew as more and more people entered the dining hall. The crowd swelled around her, and she couldn't move without bumping into someone.

"Excuse me, Jan." One of the healers brushed past her none-too-gently. She realized just how much she was in the way, and left the dining hall to clear her thoughts.

 _Kaecilius is attacking the Sanctums. He started with London, and is likely moving onto New York. If he's attacking now that means he's deciphered the pages... and intends to unleash Dormammu. If the rest of the Sanctums fall, so will this Earth._

"Jan, help me with this, won't you?" Someone she vaguely remembered motioned to a stretcher. Jan nodded, bent down, and helped her carry it to the healers.

There weren't any more portals; it looked like all who'd been able to come were here in Kamar-Taj.

She helped bandage the arm of an unconscious man, and held down the shoulders of a writhing patient while Zu, the head healer, stitched up their stomach. With little complaint, she applied a salve over their wound. After thirty minutes, someone came and took her place so Jan could wash her hands.

When she was about to return to the hall, a voice stopped her.

"Jan, there you are!" Camila stood in her way, decked out in full battle gear, sporting a sword she must've gotten from the weapons stocks. "We're going to Hong Kong." _Where Wong is,_ Jan thought with a pang. "Want to join us?" She stared at Jan expectantly, knowing her skills were worth a third of their group's.

Jan shook her head. "No, sorry. I'm going to New York. I think they'll need me there."

Camila's body deflated, but the fierce look in her eyes didn't diminish. "Then you'll probably need this!"

Jan caught the small object, barely remembering to wave as Camila ran back to their group. They seemed nervous, but determined, and wholly better together than Jan was on her own.

Jan smiled, fitting the sling ring through her index and middle fingers.

The thought of battle frightened her—actually, it _terrified_ her—but she knew she'd be doing more good fighting than staying back at Kamar-Taj.

She visualized the New York Sanctum, a place she'd been once before. Jan thought of the entrance that opened into a grand stairway; the rich, red carpeting that covered the floors; and the museum of relics: glass cases holding items from across the Americas.

One hand itching to hold her relic, Jan took a deep breath and stepped through the portal.

* * *

 **A/N: Apologies for any mistakes... I had to write/edit two chapters in half the amount of time, so, surprise! There's a two-chapter update this week! (As I'm leaving for a vacation for two weeks...) When I get back, I will post the last chapter, and the epilogue some time after that. It's crazy that we're so close to the end of this...**

 **Thanks to** Elise142 **for following! :) *hugs***

Kenibo1: **Thank you so much for responding :) It's wonderful to hear that you're enjoying it!**

Agent blue rose: **Glad to hear it worked XD** **I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: There's Only So Far Reading Recipes Can Get You (In which a turn is taken.)

* * *

Jan had only been to North America twice. The second time, just one month ago, had ended on an awkward, troubling note. The first had been when she was twelve, and much less concerned with the outer world.

The thing she remembered most about the Sanctum was how strangely everyone had talked. Like Stephen, their voices had sounded completely different from everyone's she'd heard before. As a child, things like that had mattered to her. She'd spent weeks after the visit attempting to replicate their American accents.

Jan didn't remember the New York Sanctum being so destroyed the last time she was here. Making her way from one of the bathrooms, Jan looked on in shock at all the smashed glass.

The museum was _decimated_. Cases of all sizes had been smashed to smithereens. Paintings on the walls were torn apart. She stepped over the dusty remains of a vase, pushed off its stand in some brutal exchange.

The Cloak of Levitation was nowhere to be seen. She hoped it was all right. Jan had once spent an hour dancing around its glass container, giggling at how it followed her every move.

Hearing voices up ahead, she strode through the remnants of the museum towards the staircase. The Ancient One and Mordo were there, to her relief, along with-

"Stephen!" she squeaked. He looked battered and shaken, but completely alive.

Despite Jan's positive attitude, it was not reciprocated by the others. The Ancient One sighed when she saw her, and said, "I'm not surprised to see you here."

"I- I just want to help," Jan pleaded, a hurt expression crossing her face.

The Ancient One shook her head as she walked past her. "You'd be better off at Kamar-Taj."

She left the three of them standing there; Jan with a little less self-esteem, and the others worrying about what was to happen next.

Jan looked up as Stephen grabbed her arm. She was about to move away when she saw his face. A sad and broken look had taken over his eyes. She looked at him in confusion, as he said, "Jan, you need to understand, the Ancient One isn't-"

"Oh, don't try and corrupt her, Strange!" Mordo said, and pulled him away from her. He jabbed a finger into Stephen's chest, about to tell him just why he was wrong about all this until Stephen said,

"Corruption? You want to talk about corruption like you haven't been doing that to her all along? _She,_ " he said, pointing past Jan to where the Ancient One had gone, "is not who you think she is."

Jan shrunk back as Mordo stepped between them. "You have no right to say that," he growled. "You have no idea of the responsibility that rests upon her shoulders."

Stephen shook his head. "No, and I don't want to know."

"You're a coward," Mordo spat. Jan's eyes widened.

"Guys," she began. "What's going-"

"Because I'm not a killer?" Stephen said.

She'd only spent an hour at Kamar-Taj. Jan shrunk back as their argument escalated.

Mordo gestured around them, his gaze lingering on Jan. "These zealots will snuff us all out, and you can't muster the strength to snuff them out first?"

Stephen pointed below them, his voice elevating into a yell. "What do you think I just _did?_ "

"You saved your own life," Mordo groaned, "and then whined about it like a wounded dog."

Jan knew they were talking about killing; something she'd never done before. She'd defeated people in combat—but it'd always been safe. There were always safeguards. The thought occurred to her that that might change today.

"And you would have done it so easily?"

Mordo's voice reached a low baritone. "You have no idea. The things I've done..."

Jan gulped.

"-And the answer is yes. Without question."

"Even if there's another way?" Stephen asked.

Jan looked past them, out the window, a sickness growing in her stomach.

"There is no other way," Mordo said.

"You lack imagination."

"No, Stephen," Mordo countered. "You lack a spine."

 _"Stop it,"_ Jan murmured, too quiet for either of them to hear. They needed to stay together, to work together. They couldn't fight now—not when the zealots could attack at any moment.

From below them, an unnatural clicking noise filled the air. Jan looked around, waiting for the ceiling to crash down on them. Impossibly enough, it sounded like the building was moving; like it was being moulded out of its natural structure.

"They're back," Stephen said.

Jan reached out for Mordo as he ran for the balcony, vaulting over it to the stairs below. "We have to end this," he called back to them. "Now!"

Jan looked around for some alternative solution. The Ancient One had been here _minutes_ ago. Where was she now?

Before she could search any further, Stephen took her hand. She looked up at him, still confused, and now more wary than ever after the conversation they'd just had.

"We don't need her now," he said. "We can take them!" The Cloak of Levitation—which Jan now realized was clipped to his shoulders—lifted him up and took Stephen down to the foyer.

"Strange!" Mordo yelled. "Get down here and fight!"

Jan couldn't leave them to fight on their own. If the Ancient One had left, she could not. She unclasped the handle—the Six Whips of Gandren—from her belt and, following what Mordo had taught her about landings, jumped over the railing.

She landed, rolled, and jumped up to see Mordo pinned to the wall by two of the zealots. Jan recognized Sabine: she was a friend of Julias. And Duncan: he'd struggled in their martial arts classes, always hesitating to strike first. It seemed that had changed, as of now.

Kaecilius stood in the doorway, raising his hands above his head. In between them he spun a ball of glowing energy. To do what, Jan didn't know, but she needed to stop him.

She held out her hands, the beginnings of a shield gathering between them. If she worked fast enough, she'd be able to hinder his-

But she was too late. Kaecilius threw the sphere at his feet. It burst out in every direction, shaking the Sanctum's foundation like it had at Kamar-Taj. Jan expected to be thrown back twenty feet, but instead felt a twisting sensation in her gut. Like she was being turned inside out.

To her right, Stephen said, _"The Mirror_ _Dimension._ You can't affect the real world in here." He made a formation with his fingers, drawing them across his chest. "Who's laughing now, asshole?"

He swooped down, barely giving Jan the time to think, _Mirror Dimension? Astral Projection? Cloak of Levitation? Four months and he can do all of that?_

 _"_ Jan, come on!" Stephen pulled her up and together they ran past Kaecilius, into the street. Mordo beat back the zealots long enough to follow them.

The buildings and streets around them were shifting in impossible ways. A bank fell into the ground, leaving an empty space behind it. Two HOV lanes merged and the buses in them collided, except there was no crash: they simply melded into one. Rooftops waved up and down as their buildings' supports were adjusted by the Mirror Dimension's unstable physics.

"They've got no sling ring," Stephen said to Mordo. "I mean, they can't escape, right?"

Jan tugged on his sleeve, pointing to the Sanctum's open door. Three figures stalked towards them.

"Run!" Mordo yelled, and they did just that.

The running wasn't the difficult part: Jan had trained for years. The difficult part was keeping track of where she was. The intersection they stopped at was the most disorientating thing she'd ever seen. Cars drove backwards, sideways, and upside down, coming close to, but never actually hitting one another.

"Wait!" Stephen grabbed Jan by the back of her tunic, pulling her out of the path of an oncoming car. They looked to where Mordo was scanning the cityscape in all its revolving glory. New York had never looked so busy.

When part of the road folded under itself, he ran back to them.

"Their connection to the Dark Dimension makes them more powerful in the Mirror Dimension," he said.

Jan remembered reading a scholar's theory on their connective physics; both involved chaos. Inescapable chaos.

"They can't affect the real world, but they can still kill us." The word 'kill' made something spiral through Jan. It made her remember the library, the body—an open book. She wanted to reach for to Mordo, out of a child's fear that still resided in her. She didn't when he spat, "This wasn't cleverness, it was suicide."

They continued to run. This time, Jan caught Mordo's attention.

"Mordo!" He glanced back. She was behind him and Stephen, lagging only as the first defensive barrier. "I- I have a sling ring!" From Camila, sweet Camila, who'd always held back in their fights. She hoped she was all right.

Something that wasn't quite happiness, but rather, a thought of a tactical advantage, glinted in Mordo's eye. "Good!" was all he barked out.

Jan looked behind her to where the zealots were catching up. She smiled as two cars sped towards them. That smile evaporated however, when by some kind of power, Kaecilius created two spaces between the cars, and thus two pathways for him and his charges. _Mordo was right._ They really were more powerful here.

She looked ahead, refocusing on what was to come. Part of her asked, _Where is Julia? Is she still alive?_ But she shoved those thoughts away. Survive now, reminisce later.

Stephen had created a portal. They sprinted towards it.

They were almost there—within ten metres—when the ground shifted. The unexpected change in gravity threw them down another road. Jan watched the portal glimmer, then disappear as they fell parallel to the ground.

Stephen and Mordo both had relics they could use to ease their falls. Jan did not. Their landings on the bus were rough. Jan's was worse.

She hit the window with a barely-contained grunt, landing just three metres to their right. If they weren't in the Mirror Dimension—where you could only manipulate matter, not destroy it—she would have smashed right through the window, and, undoubtedly, through the one below it as well.

"Jan!" Mordo called to her. "Get up!" He held out his hand. She tried to stand up and take it so they could get to stable ground, but cried out and fell back down.

 _"_ _My foot,"_ she said, now completely overtaken by the searing pain.

They were running out of time; they had to move.

Jan felt herself sliding backwards, the bus' surface slipping out from underneath her. She tried to grab onto the window ledge, but was thrown from it in one particularly prominent bump. A feeling of weightlessness accompanied her fall.

 _"_ _No!"_ Mordo shouted as she slid away from them, fingers desperately grappling for purchase. He saw one brown hand reach up, straightening to hold on... then nothing.

"Jan!" He began to make his way to where she'd fallen.

"Mordo!" Stephen called, pointing to behind him. "They're coming!" He grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled them both into the air away from the bus.

She has a sling ring, Mordo assured himself. She has a sling ring.

* * *

Jan was picking up speed. The longer she fell, the more it would hurt to land. Beginner's physics, she thought.

A portal would be useful, but that wouldn't slow her down. She didn't have relics like Mordo or Strange that let her fly; she only had a whip... which she could swing with. She could work with that.

Jan fumbled at her waistband, not even coming close to dropping the handle she held so tightly.

 _What did she do, what did she do?_ What had the Ancient One done to activate the relic's power? What did _anyone_ do to use a relic? Jan didn't know.

She fell dangerously close to the top of a building, its fire escape whipping past her head.

 _Emotion. Connection. They have a mind of their own. They're to be respected_. Connect to her emotions? All she felt right now was fear. And fear was weak.

 _Trust in your relic._

"Oh god!" The feeling in her gut had reached a point of no return. It felt like there was too much space between her ribs and her diaphragm; she couldn't get any air to go in.

 _Just work, just do something, just_ save _me!_ Jan grit her teeth and flung her arm up. The handle in her palm began to grow warmer—not uncomfortably: just enough for her to notice. She opened her eyes to see two—just two—red lines streak out and wrap around a rung on the fire escape. Realizing what came next, Jan took a deep breath and braced herself.

The jerk hurt like hell, but not in the way her foot did. Her body straightened out and she pulled her knees up, making sure her feet hit the side of the building first. She stayed there, gasping for breath, until her heart rate slowed.

The ground was thirty feet below her. She needed to move quickly if she wanted it to still be there when she got down. Readjusting her grip on the handle, Jan levelled herself out on the side of the building. She began to rappel down like a rock climber, wondering just how far the red lines would extend.

Feet finally planted on solid ground (for however long it would remain that way), she leaned back into the wall, pressing her hands to her forehead. When she wasn't looking, the lines retracted back into the handle.

"Just breathe... breathe, think, and assess the situation," she told herself.

She was in the Mirror Dimension. She had been separated from her friends. She had a weapon she barely knew how to use and a sling ring that-

 _The sling ring._ Jan checked her pocket and could have weeped in relief.

But where would she go..? Stephen had been trying to get them out of here, even though he'd been thwarted once already. She could follow his pattern and do the same. She could leave the Mirror Dimension; no one was here to stop her.

Jan felt horrified by her thoughts. Leave them behind? Was she insane?

Not insane; just scared.

The Mirror Dimension doesn't obey Earth's natural laws, she thought. The sling ring's realm of origin had very thin veils between its fabric of space, allowing its inhabitants to travel wherever they wanted to. In their treaty with Earth, the ability to create portals had been offered in the form of sling rings. But they didn't work so easily here. There were boundaries on Earth that didn't exist in Cellwan.

Jan remembered Master Sondra's words of always knowing exactly where she wanted to go. Perhaps in here, that where could be turned into a who.

She created a portal, thinking of Mordo and how he'd trained her as a child: the obstacle courses he'd set up for her; the late-night sparring in the garden; the words of encouragement, which, as she grew older, appeared less and less often. She recalled that conversation at night between him, the Ancient One, and Wong. She focused not on what it was about, but how Mordo had swung her up into his arms, protecting her.

He couldn't protect her any longer.

On the other side of the portal, Jan saw pieces of stone and staircase flying about. Streets folded in the air, allowing cars to drive through the chaos, disrupting the fight at various intervals. She heard the shouts of her mentor, and wasted little time in jumping through.

Once she reached the other side, she fell to her knees to avoid a swinging piece of rubble. All around her, the remnant of a city block shifted to break up and reform in alternating pathways. Jan took the one nearest to her, made of a staircase and some floating chunks of concrete.

"Jan!" Her heart leapt; she knew his voice well.

It seemed that they'd reached the centre of the city-block-turned-tornado. It was here that she reconvened with Mordo, breathless, hurting, scared, but relieved to see him all the same.

"You're all right?" he asked, clapping a hand on her shoulder rather roughly.

No, she wasn't. But she was here, so Jan nodded.

From above them, they heard a scuffle. Jan saw Sabine leap down to land on top of someone. Stephen, she realized: at her mercy, and about to die. She and Mordo tried to save him. They thought there was less than a second—no enough time to do anything sufficient—until the slabs of stone they stood on began to shift of their own accord.

 _Not quite on their own,_ Jan thought as she turned her vision upwards, elated at who had arrived.

As the Ancient One floated down, the slabs rearranged themselves into an ornate pattern, spelling out loops in the stone beneath their feet. Jan, Mordo, and Stephen were pushed to the place farthest from Kaecilius.

Jan looked to Mordo and Stephen, prepared to see expressions of joy on their faces, like hers.

"It's true," Mordo said. "She does draw power from the Dark Dimension." The Ancient One looked at them, pain flashing across her face.

 _What?_ Jan looked between them, expecting Stephen to refute the preposterous claim. But his face was just as stony.

Jan wished to go back. She wished to leap through the portal turning around them, back into the regular world. She wanted to un-see the mark burned into the Ancient One's forehead: the mark of the Dark Dimension, and of Dormammu.

"Kaecilius," the Ancient One said, stepping around the edge of the circle. He followed her. They paced around each other in the prelude to their inevitable fight.

"I came to you broken, lost, bleeding," Kaecilius spat. "I trusted you to be my teacher, and you fed me lies."

The Ancient One's face turned into one of pity. "I tried to protect you."

"From the truth?" Jan saw the look hidden in his perpetual scowl, in his eyes. It spelled death.

"From yourself," the Ancient One said.

What was going on? Jan kept hoping that the red mark would disappear, that the Ancient One would finish this quickly, turn to her and say, "It's all right, Jan. You can wake up now."

"I have a new teacher now," Kaecilius said.

"Dormammu deceives you," the Ancient One protested. Jan saw the zealots—Sabine and Duncan—tensed up and moved to block them, but Mordo held her close. His grip on her arm hurt, his eyes never leaving the Ancient One.

"You have no idea what he truly is. His eternal life is not paradise, but torment."

"Liar!" Kaecilius reared back, summoning his followers. He wouldn't believe anything she had to say. They wielded their translucent weapons, with Duncan striking her first. The Ancient One knocked him over with ease and blocked the next two strikes with golden, circular shields.

She pushed back against Kaecilius and Sabine, sweeping their legs out from under them. Kaecilius stumbled backwards and changed the ground beneath them into a roiling wave. Though it was meant to knock the Ancient One back, he found that it did the exact opposite as she turned it on him. The wave of patterned stone blasted him off his feet to the edge of the platform.

Barely moving her feet, the Ancient One fended off Sabine and Duncan one after the other. Jan nearly smiled: they were no match for her.

The Ancient One threw Sabine to the side and grabbed Duncan, lifting him up in front of her.

Jan nearly smiled, because that was the same moment Kaecilius stabbed her, through his own zealot.

A cry died in Jan's throat as a look of defeat flashed across the Ancient One's face. Something lurched inside her throat. Bile? Maybe. At the sight of one of her mentors being stabbed through the stomach.

Kaecilius pushed Duncan aside and kicked the Ancient One through the portal. One Jan had hardly realized was there.

Jan was the second through the portal, just after Mordo. They were back in New York, falling from a hole in the sky. She wondered if anyone saw where they'd come through. She barely considered how she was going to land. _Maybe I won't,_ Jan thought, watching the Ancient One's body fall far below them.

They weren't going to catch up to her. That hadn't been the point of jumping after her. The point? What was the point?

 _Retrieve her body. Save her, remember her in some way._

The wind whipped against Jan's face as the ground rushed up to meet her. She barely considered how much it was going to hurt until an arm wrapped around her waist. Her fall slowed with Stephen's help. _The Cloak of Levitation._ Did it remember her from all those years ago? Could it remember?

Once her feet touched the ground her knees began to shake uncontrollably. Ahead she heard the screams of those gathered around the Ancient One. Jan should be screaming like them, shouldn't she?

Nothing would come out. She said nothing as Stephen let go of her hand and pushed through to the broken body amongst the shattered glass. Jan looked away, letting people jostle her back and forth, but not before she saw yellow. Yellow and red.

A frantic look on his face, Stephen turned to Jan and said, "I'll help her. I promise, I'll fix this."

* * *

 **A/N: I had some trouble writing Jan into a part of the movie that's as small (though as important) as this. Did anything not work on your end?**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: When Am I Allowed To Cry? (In which more than one person is lost.)

* * *

 _"_ _We knew she wasn't normal. Getting into Kamar-Taj alone—_ undetected _..._ _A_ _nd when she caught on to the concepts so quickly... Do you know how frightening it is to see a four-year-old conjure up magic she shouldn't even be able to access?"_

 _The Ancient One looked from the sky, where lightning was still falling through the clouds, to Stephen, who was at the most humble she'd even seen him. "That's why we held her back." She sniffed. "At the cost of her trust, of all things."_

 _He didn't know what to say. Now, of all times. Just a few moments before she disappeared forever._

* * *

 _Twenty minutes earlier..._

At some point, Mordo left. He didn't go with them to the hospital. It was up to them to carry the Ancient One there. Jan wished he had: she felt alone without him.

She seemed to be making a lot of wishes these days.

She ran behind the stretcher, vaguely hearing Stephen call out a woman's name. Her actions, though not her own, happened nonetheless. Her feet ran without being told to, her eyes watched even though she didn't want to. She followed the stretcher, wishing for some alternative to all of it. Her stomach flipped, pulling organs and fluids along with it, leaving her insides a jumbled-up mess. She felt like she was going to puke.

 _All the feelings of Astral Projection just without the stress of having your soul ripped from your body—only $9.95, shipping not included!_

Stephen hadn't looked at her since entering the hospital. Jan wanted to reach out to him—she needed a hand to hold. Now, he sprinted through some double doors, pulling on a set of pale blue scrubs. Meanwhile, Jan was pulled to the side by a worried nurse. She said something to her, then said it again.

Jan blinked, shaking her head.

"Are you a relative? Are you related to her?"

 _To Tao? No, not really._ _The Ancient One was_ _always_ _just there, like Wong and Mordo._ _A_ _woman in_ _my_ _trio of guardians who always seemed more aloof than present._ _Sunny yellow robes and a wooden fan; female but androgynous. She who would smile while others frowned when I called_ _out_ _"Tao!" the shorter, more simplistic version of her name for my five-year-old self. (She never looked ancient: the name confused me.) A part of my life and upbringing,_ _unmovable_ _and forever confusing. The Dark Dimension—why did she use it? Why didn't I know?_ _I could have figured it out._ _Why did she hide it? She could've told me, I would've understood._

 _She cared for me and taught me much, but we're not related. -But she has no one else. There's no one else here for her but me and Stephen._

"Yes!" Jan said. "I am... I'm a relative."

The nurse looked her up and down. Jan didn't look anything like the half-dead woman on the table, but she held the concern any loving daughter would have. "Come this way," she said, and guided her towards the viewing room.

Jan wouldn't be near the operation—she didn't think she could be—but was handed some scrubs nonetheless. She took off her headscarf before winding it into a ball, then tucked her hair underneath the cap. The smock and pants fit over her gear awkwardly, a fact the nurse noticed but chose to ignore. The handle holding the Six Whips of Gandren stuck out on her belt, a sharp reminder of the fight she'd had a hand in. -If you could even call it that.

She turned around at the closing of a door. The nurse had gone, leaving her alone to watch.

Through the glass, Jan saw Stephen pull on a pair of latex gloves. He picked up an instrument—a scalpel—and stared at it. From her position she couldn't see how his hands shook, how he closed his eyes in thought. She only saw him look up and hand the scalpel to another man in the room. Stephen took a backseat, standing on the edge of the group of doctors.

Jan gulped at this change of pace. Clutching her headscarf, she stepped towards the glass. From the observatory, small and cramped as it was, she couldn't hear the commands issued by those leading the operation. She watched as they took actions—each one loaded with decades of experience—that did little to right the Ancient One's condition.

 _In and out, in and out..._ Jan followed the rhythm of her meditative breathing, but it did little to quell her fear. Her foot throbbed with every breath, but her attention was thankfully diverted elsewhere.

Lights began to flash across the machines—lights Jan didn't know the meaning of. Were they bad? Good? Was the Ancient One about to sit up and lead them to stop Kaecilius?

Judging by the doctor's present activities—in which they had begun chest compressions and had a defibrillator at the ready—she assumed it was not the latter.

She caught one last glimpse of those sunny yellow robes before she whirled around. They stood out amongst the pale blue hospital uniforms.

She didn't catch the electrical glitch that befell the heart monitor, and she didn't see Stephen look back at her, seeing the young woman sob with her head in her hands.

 _"_ _You need to start listening to them, Songbird."_

 _Jan sniffed, wiping tears away from her blackened eye. "Why?"_

 _"Because I won't always be here," the Ancient One said. She picked her up, swinging Jan onto her feet. When Jan tried to hold her hand she drew it away._

 _"Now, are you going to tell me how you got that black eye?"_

 _Shoulders slumped, Jan tried to avoid her gaze. "I was trying to do the wheel."_

 _"The wheel?"_

 _"_ Cart _wheel. Like Mordo."_

 _The Ancient One smiled. "Ahh... I thought he told you not to try unless he was around._

 _"He diiid," Jan said, then stopped, seeing Mordo and Wong at the end of the hall. They were talking in concerned voices, and hadn't seen her yet. Wong showed Mordo a book that looked suspiciously like the one she'd snuck out of the library the day before._

 _The Ancient One crouched down next to her. "Promise me that you'll pick your battles, Jan. Know who you are."_

 _"How can I know who I am?" Jan asked. "I don't even know who my_ parents _are, or where I came from..."_

 _The Ancient One pointed ahead. "They are your parents. You may not share blood, but they have cared for you and taught you since the day you arrived here. Know your family; understand who you are."_

 _Jan spooned cereal into her mouth, swinging her feet back and forth at the table. When she emptied the bowl, she looked up. Wong tipped the rest of the box into her leftover milk._

 _She sat on the ground, crying as Mordo wrapped a bandage around her knee. Each time he ran over the scrape she flinched. Eventually, when she was ready, he helped her to her feet._

* * *

Stephen fell backwards, crashing to a heap on the floor.

The heart monitor had reduced to a single, monotonous beep. A space in Jan's heart was carved out: slowly, meticulously, as she listened.

One of the doctors rushed to Stephen. They shook him by his shoulders, then helped him to his feet.

Jan didn't look through the window. The sound was all she needed to know that they were finished: it was over.

* * *

 _Patient Name: Unknown._

 _Patient Age: Unknown._

 _Emergency Contact: Dr. Stephen V. Strange._

 _Driver's License Number: Unknown._

 _Carecard Number: Unknown._

 _Physical Description: female, caucasian, middle-aged, blue eyes, bald._

 _Reason for Admittance: stunned myocardium via blunt force trauma. Fell from building?_

 _Cause of Death: see above._

 _Time of Death:6:12 PM EST._

 _Additional Notes: ..._

* * *

Stephen found Jan in the waiting room, next to the coffee machine, with her knees pulled into her chest. Her shoulders shook, face tucked out of sight.

He ignored the weird looks they got and sat down next to her. He heard her inhale, but nothing more.

"Hey," he said, putting one hand on her arm rest.

She sniffed, but didn't look up.

Even in her final moments, the Ancient One had been as confusing as ever. He had a million questions, and no immediate answers. "Jan, please: look at me."

"You promised," she murmured from her kneecaps.

Stephen closed his eyes and sighed. He had. One of the many promises he didn't—or couldn't—keep.

"You promised you would fix it," Jan whimpered. She looked up at him, her eyes ringed with red. "I couldn't even see her! Her body's still on that... that _table._ "

The last time she'd seen it had been in the operating room. While he'd cleaned up, it had been moved to the morgue.

"I know," he said. "Do you..." He shook his head. "We're going to go get her, okay?"

Her eyes flicked downwards.

He was supposed to apologize, wasn't he? The things he'd said about the Ancient One had been disrespectful. Her connection to the Dark Dimension had soured her reputation in her final few moments. It had become a rude awakening for the three of them. Stephen had known for a while, but Mordo and Jan... for them to find out just minutes before her death. He didn't expect her to forgive him or the Ancient One anytime soon.

Jan wiped a finger under her nose. "I want to see her."

Stephen nodded.

Jan put her feet on the ground and went to stand up. She immediately winced, grit her teeth, and clung to Stephen for support. "Ahhh..."

"What is it?" he asked, holding out his arm.

"Foot..." she grumbled. "Fell... on... bus..."

"On a scale of one to ten?" he asked.

"Six?" Jan breathed in sharply. " _Seven._ "

"Okay, all right." Stephen let her grab onto his arm. "I got you." The shock was just wearing off at this point. The combined shock, he assumed, from both the landing and her loss.

"Let's get you somewhere quieter," Stephen said, helping her stand up. They shuffled forward, with Jan leaning on him more than her right foot.

He wrapped a tensor bandage around her ankle just outside the hospital's main supply closet. Jan watched him at every turn, breathing deeply each time he tightened the wrap. When he glanced up at her she looked away, pretending to ignore him.

"Here," he said once it was done. "Take one of these."

"Painkillers?" Jan asked. She shrugged when he nodded. "I don't need any."

"I wasn't asking." He handed her the pill and a paper cone filled with water and waited until she'd downed both.

"Good." He held out his arm, but this time she shook her head. "This way, then," he said, and she followed him, limping to the morgue.

* * *

Above all else, it was cold. Like a kitchen freezer, except with more bodies.

Slat metal doors lined the right wall, with a few gurneys at the end of the room.

A man cleaning one of the gurneys looked up as they entered. His eyes widened, then squinted, mouth forming a name. Stephen held up a hand. "Yes, Cory, it's me. And no, I didn't join a cult."

Jan stared around blankly.

The man looked between them, focusing on the gilded lapels of the Cloak of Levitation and the seemingly sword-less handle at Jan's waist. "You two are, um, here for...?"

"The one they just brought in from the OR," Stephen said. Jan gulped, casting her eyes downwards.

"Oh, uh, yeah." The man went over to a drawer at the bottom level, unlocked the door, and pulled it out by the handle.

A small gasp escaped Jan's lips, heard by both the man and Stephen. She shifted forward, hands twitching at her sides.

The man stepped away from the drawer, looking to Stephen for answers.

Jan knelt at the Ancient One's side. Behind her, Stephen thanked the man, who them scurried out of the room.

She'd already cried today. Before, in the hallway leading to the waiting room. She wouldn't cry now, not here, when there was someone to see. Jan's sadness, though obviously present, didn't manifest itself literally when she was in the presence of others. Until she had a moment to herself she kept it away, tucked inside to writhe and broil.

 _A thought too strong, too bold, to weak,_

 _When strays close to a heart is known to reek._

Jan ran her fingertips along the Ancient One's shoulder. She interlocked their fingers, gripping them tighter despite the chill, leaned closer, and kissed her forehead.

"We'll send people," Stephen said, voice barely above a whisper. "When this is all over, she'll be brought back to Kamar-Taj."

 _When this is all over?_ How could he already be thinking that far ahead? Jan didn't think they were even going to _win_ this.

"I'll take her now," she said. There wouldn't be time later. And the Ancient One needed to be with her people. Not in a metal box two continents away.

"Jan..."

She stood up, effectively stopping any speech from him. She tested her foot; it seemed better now. Jan held out her hands, neither with any noticeable shake in them. Fingers splayed, she called upon the Iriad for help.

Twin circles of blue energy appeared underneath the Ancient One. Jan breathed in and raised her to waist height. Half her concentration still focused on that, she turned to see Stephen staring at her, a meld of recollection and realization on his face.

When Jan cocked her head, he shook the feeling off and began to conjure a portal.

* * *

Kamar-Taj, as it were, already knew of the Ancient One's death.

Instead of the dining hall, they went to the usual healing centre. There, Masters and students alike rushed back and forth for new bandages and ointments. All of them carried weapons. When Jan walked in, they stopped.

She kept her face stoic as she levitated the Ancient One through the doorway. She moved her to above on of the beds, then slowly lowered her down. When the Ancient One touched the surface, the blue circles dissolved, allowing her to rest, finally in the place she belonged.

"Is Mordo here?" Jan asked Master Kaito as he walked up to her.

He nodded. "He appeared just over an hour ago. You'll find him in the library: Master's section."

Jan thanked him, knowing Strange would be there. Then she said, "Prepare her body for our return."

Master Kaito gave her a look. There was only one place left that Kaecilius hadn't attacked. Then, Kamar-Taj—and the world—would be completely vulnerable. Jan knew he had misgivings, but she wouldn't allow her home to be destroyed.

"We're going to stop him," she said. "We'll end this at Hong Kong."

* * *

As all available hands were busy dealing with the wounded, no one had thought to clear the rubble in the library basement. Jan found Stephen and Mordo there, standing where the three doors had been.

They both looked at her tear-strewn cheeks as she joined them in the debris.

Mordo appraised her, looking for any grievous injuries. Though the painkillers had passed their limit, Jan no longer felt burdened by her fall.

"You shouldn't come," said Mordo.

Jan shook her head, unlocking the Six Whips of Gandren from her belt. "We're not debating this. I want him dead."

Mordo's shoulders were slumped, his stance slack, but not relaxed; never relaxed.

Stephen looked uncomfortable at the sight of her newfound anger, but nevertheless, created another portal. They went through it...

...and stepped into chaos.

A police car flew past them, sirens screaming. A burst line spewed water into the road, drenching anyone who got near it. Firefighters surrounded the pipe. They tried to gain some control over it. Multiple fires had sprouted up around the wreckage, and they needed the water. A restaurant's fluorescent sign had crashed through a shop window. Glass, bricks, pipe, stone, wood, and plaster covered the ground.

Jan saw people screaming, crying out for their loved ones. They ran from the fires and from unstable buildings, each one threatening to crush them. They stumbled through the remains of shops and restaurants. They fled, completely unaware of who had caused it all.

Jan remembered getting lunch at a stall just a block away. Wong had surprised her on her eleventh birthday with a trip to the city. She wondered if the destruction had reached that far.

"The Sanctum has already fallen," she heard Mordo say. Jan turned her head to where he and Stephen were looking and her mouth dropped open in horror.

There was nothing left but a few chunks of building. The rest had been consumed by a purple mass and the spindly creatures of-

"The Dark Dimension," Mordo breathed. "Dormammu is coming."

Over thirty people had lived in the Sanctum. They had relics... they were skilled, powerful sorcerers—many of them Masters. It was unfair, Jan thought. They should've lasted longer. There were good people in there: Wong had gone there.

 _Wong._ Her throat suddenly closed up.

"It's too late," Mordo said. "Nothing can stop him."

Jan found that she agreed with her last living mentor.

In the distance, she spotted Kaecilius. With him were Sabine and Julia. Jan's heart panged at the sight of her. The state of her eyes, cracked and burned, made her stomach roll. She wondered if it had hurt her: did she regret joining Kaecilius? Did she enjoy killing people? Jan was ready to be angry.

The three of them gazed at the destruction they'd caused. Jan didn't need to see Kaecilius' face clearly to know that he was revelling in the moment.

She took one step in their direction, only to be stopped by Stephen.

"Not necessarily..." he said. He crossed his hands at the wrist, making a gesture with his fingers. He moved his hands apart from one another, and with that motion, unlocked the Eye of Agamotto.

Jan's eyes widened as green bands appeared around his wrists. _The Book of Cagliostro... Time manipulation._

It seemed that Kaecilius had finally seen them. He muttered something and began to run towards them. Julia and Sabine followed. Jan couldn't see anything but hatred in their eyes, but that didn't change the fact that they had studied together. They'd been friends—more so for Julia and Jan.

Jan shifted into a fighting stance and waited for Mordo to do the same. To her surprise, he was looking at Stephen. Jan put a hand on her weapon, fully prepared to draw it out. She could swing out of Kaecilius' path, or knock his feet out from under him. Then she would go for Julia. If Jan had a second, maybe she could talk to her; try and convince her that Kaecilius was a madman—that none of this would do any good.

Instead, Jan felt like she was falling backwards. For a second, everything in her line of sight switched places. She felt heavily disorientated. After the adjustment, she blinked, realizing that everything was back in its normal position...

...except that everything was moving backwards.

"The spell's working," she heard Stephen say. "We've got a second chance!"

He and Mordo started to run. Jan's feet followed them, pulling the rest of her along with.

 _Spell? Second chance?_ The spell! She gaped, transfixed by how the world was changing. Cars reassembled themselves and drove out of buildings. Shop doors and windows flew back into place, removing all the glass from the street. People ran backwards, many out of the danger they'd just been in. But _they—_ her, Stephen, and Mordo—were moving forwards.

"Where are we going?" she called.

"To the Sanctum!" said Stephen.

The Sanctum... her brain was still catching up

"Oh!" She ducked as a piece of rubble flew past her. With everything else going back in time, that would include the Sanctum, wouldn't it?

"Look out!" Mordo yelled. Jan ducked then rolled out of the way as something flew past her. Apparently, the zealots had broken through the spell.

Before Jan could stop him, Kaecilius jumped over her and ran towards Stephen. If he was killed, the spell would end, and they'd lose their second chance.

But right now, she had another problem to deal with.

She and Mordo turned to face Julia and Sabine. Mordo gave Jan a look before charging her ex-girlfriend. She was experienced enough to lead him away. Now that Dormammu was on their side, who knew what strength they could unleash.

Jan looked at Sabine, shifting back onto her right leg. She drew out her weapon, and, through her anger, summoned the whips. They flared a bright red, trailing to pool in a circle at her feet.

"You could have joined us," Sabine said, her German accent shining through her speech.

Jan glared, reared back, and snapped the whips forward.

Sabine jumped out of the reach of the first two, but tripped over the next. Jan lashed two more onto her ankle, then threw her over head and down the street. She turned and continued towards where the Sanctum was—will be—but didn't realize that Sabine had landed nimbly on the roof of a moving car.

Jan heard the rumble of an engine and jumped aside to avoid the bumper. As it sped past her, the driver working the gearshift in reverse, Sabine jumped off to stand in front of Jan, now _between_ her and her destination.

Jan ran to the left, casting the whips out beside her. They latched onto a ceiling rafter high above them. Kicking off the side of the building, she swung around Sabine. She released the whips when she got to a safe distance away and flew through the air, free-falling, for a moment. To soften the landing she conjured a blue shield beneath her. Oddly enough, her ankle didn't seem to be hurting anymore.

The shield crumpled on impact. Jan rolled, then sprang to her feet. She began to walk backwards, staring smugly at Sabine as a food stand reconstructed itself between them.

Jan knew Sabine had trouble keeping up. "Closing distance," as Mordo would put it. She had a fast punch, but the same couldn't be said for her running. If Jan kept her at a distance, she could use her whips to disable her.

Unfortunately, Sabine caught up to her much faster than she'd been expecting. Sprinting around the food stand, she quickly mowed down the distance.

Jan staggered back, nearly tripping over a piece of store as it moved out from under her foot.

As Sabine got closer, Jan held out her weapon. She swung her arm to the right and three red strands lashed out. Three out of six: not ideal, but not bad. She moved them as one, and they wrapped around Sabine's waist. Unconventional, but Jan was sure it would work.

She pulled Sabine to the right, cutting her off of her current track, then Jan swung her to the left. The whips seemed to act of their own accord, raising her so that her feet just skimmed the ground. Sabine tugged at the energy around her waist, wincing as it began to singe her clothes.

Jan saw an empty store window, still without its glass. A determined expression on her face, she flung Sabine in just as the window began to reconstruct itself.

She tried to get out, but was swamped back by a surge of water.

It was actually a fish tank, Jan realized, and allowed herself a small smile at the sight of Sabine trapped inside.

She enjoyed her moment of reprieve, but then remembered Kaecilius. Mordo could take care of Julia—he'd taught her how to fight, after all—but was Stephen safe? She ran down the street.

Debris began to fly past her. She covered her face, peeking out through her fingers, only to be shoved aside by a passing civilian—one who was running _backwards_.

The Sanctum, she thought. It was at the spell's epicentre. Out of everything being turned back, it would be fixed last.

Smoke began to gather around where the Sanctum would be, with more streaming through the air to join it.

Pieces of building were sucked to the source, drawn to where the Dark Dimension threatened to spill out into Earth. If Dormammu emerged, they would be lost. Jan ran towards the smoke, hoping that Stephen and Mordo would be there.

As she ran, Jan saw, to her left, the bricks of a wall covering up a man. He screamed in rage as it closed over his face.

Ahead, she saw a dark figure drop to the ground. The weapon in his hand slinked back to its usual, three foot length.

"Mordo!" she called out, running to catch up with him.

He whirled around, his face hardened. "You're all right?" he said when she got near. Jan wanted to hug him, but felt like it wasn't the time. This day had left few moments for embrace.

"Over here!" they heard Stephen call. He pointed to the Sanctum where it was beginning to be rebuilt. They reconvened at the edge of the destruction, next to a large pile of wreckage. To their horror—especially Jan's—the slabs of building were lifted up to reveal Wong's body, impaled through his back by a pipe.

" _No!_ " Jan screamed, the same time Stephen cried his name. She pushed Mordo away and went over to him. Her bottom lip trembled, her fingers flexing around the handle of her weapon.

But then the spell took effect. Wong rose off the pipe, the blood disappearing from his face and clothes. The Wand of Watoomb flew back into his hand. He looked around in shock and Jan stumbled back in relief. _He's not dead, he's all right, you still have them both._

Wong looked to Stephen and saw the Eye of Agamotto glowing, green and bright.

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Breaking the laws of nature, I know."

Wong looked back at the pipe and watched as it soared to its rightful place. "Well, don't stop now," he said.

Jan didn't waste time. She didn't know if she'd have another chance: she hugged him. Wong held on tightly, then released her as Stephen said, "When the Sanctum is restored, they'll attack again." Jan stepped back from Wong, her hold lingering on his shoulder. "Come on!" Stephen called.

The smoke had cleared. They turned down another street, this time headed straight for the Sanctum. Jan was the last in the group, and as they passed by a wall, she saw something stir behind it, ruffling the bricks in an outward motion.

It left her with a feeling of dread she would regret not acting on.

Barely ten paces from the Sanctum, a wave rocked across the ground, throwing all of them off their feet. Jan tripped and skid past Wong. She cried out as she landed against a torn-off car door, its jagged edge raking across her side.

"Oh shit..." she groaned, blinking up at bright lights. Something pressed into her back. As Wong pulled her up, the sensation dulled. They turned to see Kaecilius, once more headed their way.

"Get up, Strange," Mordo said as he staggered to his feet. "Get up and fight! ...We can finish this."

Even Jan heard the beleaguered tone in his voice.

The spell had stopped. Everything was frozen in its place. They truly were the only ones standing between Kaecilius and the Sanctum. There would be no more convenient fishtanks waiting to be filled.

As Kaecilius and his zealots got closer to them, Wong put his arm in front of Jan. She looked at him: how he clutched his weapon; how he shifted himself between her and their foes.

Without a word, she gently pushed his arm away. He stiffened when she stood next to him, but decided he could do naught to stop her anymore.

"You can't fight the inevitable," Kaecilius said. Jan looked down at Stephen who still struggled to stand up. "Isn't it beautiful?" She didn't share his sentiment. "A world beyond time... beyond death."

Beyond death, she thought, and they would be killed to get there.

From below her, she heard Stephen whisper to himself, _"Beyond time..._ "

"Strange!" Mordo shouted, urging him to stand up and help them.

And he did stand up—but not to help.

Jan watched in shock and anger as Stephen turned and flew away. The cloak of levitation took him into the swirling purple sky. She wished it would regain its independence and drag him back here by his throat. What was he thinking, leaving them like this? They needed him _now_.

But he went, disappearing into the Dark Dimension while Mordo, Wong, and Jan all watched in horror. He had abandoned them.

"He's gone," Kaecilus said. Jan wanted to rip the smugness out of him, the purple-eyed bastard. "Stephen Strange has left to surrender his power."

* * *

"Oh shit..." she groaned, blinking up at bright lights. Something pressed into her back. As Wong pulled her up, the sensation dulled. They turned to see Kaecilius, heading their way once more.

"Get up, Strange," Mordo said as he staggered to his feet. "Get up and fight! We can finish this."

Even Jan heard the beleaguered tone in his voice.

The spell had stopped. Everything was frozen in its place. They truly were the only ones standing between Kaecilius and the Sanctum. There would be no more convenient fishtanks waiting to be filled.

As Kaecilius and his zealots got closer to them, Wong put his arm in front of Jan. She looked at him: how he clutched his weapon; how he shifted himself between her and their foes.

Without a word, she gently pushed his arm away. He stiffened when she stood next to him, but decided he could do naught to stop her anymore.

"You can't fight the inevitable," Kaecilius said. Jan looked down at Stephen who still struggled to stand up. "Isn't it beautiful?" She didn't share his sentiment. "A world beyond time... beyond death."

Beyond death, she thought, and they would be killed to get there.

Jan let the whips trickle out from her handle, red and sparking. She held her other arm up in front of her, prepared to raise a shield. She would fight them—she would make Julia pay for her betrayal.

Wong and Mordo both looked at her, then to Kaecilus. They knew her anger was an unstable source of power, but for now it would have to do. Regardless of how this ended, they were proud to have their daughter fighting at their side.

But then, against everything she thought possible, Stephen floated down behind Kaecilus.

Jan's eyes widened and she relinquished her grasp on the shield. She looked down to see that he had vanished from his place on the ground. She looked to Mordo and Wong; both mirrored her expression of shock.

Kaecilius had seemed to have noticed as well. He turned around slowly. "What have you done?"

"I made a bargain," Stephen said, a calmly triumphant look on his face.

As if understanding, Wong and Mordo walked past the zealots to stand at his side. After a second, Jan followed, carefully avoiding Julia's glare. Once next to Wong, she looked at Stephen. He looked as bad as before, with several cuts marking his face.

"What is this?" Kaecilius said. He grimaced, and his hand twitched. Pieces of skin began to peel off, each one glowing with a distinct purple light.

"Well, it's uh... It's everything you ever wanted." This brought a thought back to Jan. "Eternal life as part of the one," Stephen said. "You're... not going to like it."

Kaecilius began to twitch and jerk. More skin peeled away, and he was lifted off his feet. Jan looked down when the same happened to the zealots, their bodies flailing in response to the punishment. She allowed herself to only listen to Kaecilius' roar of anger as he was pulled away into the Dark Dimension.

"I think he really should have stolen the whole book," Stephen sighed. "Because the warnings... the warnings come after the spells."

Next to Jan, Wong burst out laughing. Mordo and Stephen stared at him while he wheezed, "Oh, that's funny."

Jan continued to stare at the ground. Right at the place where Julia had stood.

Stephen called upon the Eye of Agamotto, and the green bands appeared around his arm once more. He moved them, rotating his hand in a circular motion.

Gradually, the Sanctum put itself back together. The Dark Dimension's reaches receded from the Earth as the circular window situated itself on the Sanctum's highest point.

As if the street had taken a deep breath, everything returned to as it had been before. Cars drove by them at relatively slow rates, their owners safely stationed in their seats. Pedestrians crossed the completely-intact crosswalk to eat at a food stand. And there wasn't a firefighter in sight. None of them knew.

"We did it," Wong breathed, and he, Stephen, and Jan began to walk towards the Sanctum.

"Yes. Yes we did it."

It was those words that brought the final uprooting in her day.

"By also violating the natural laws," Mordo said.

Jan turned around. She saw the angry, conflicted look in his eyes.

"Look around you," Stephen said. "It's over." He tried to coax Mordo back, but they all knew how rigid his spine was. Was today too much? Jan thought. The Ancient One's betrayal (at least in his eyes) combined with Stephen's dependance on the time spell? _Am I not enough to keep him with us?_

"You think there will be no consequences, Strange?" His voice shook with the subdued fury of a soldier who'd lost too many battles. "No price to pay?"

Jan shook her head. He had some merit, but for now they couldn't focus on that. Consequences were a part of their future. In the present—right now—they had wounded to heal, a Sanctum to rebuild... dead to mourn.

"We broke our rules, just like her. The bill comes due. Always." He didn't look at Jan. The whole time his attention had been directed at Stephen or Wong—the adults.

"A reckoning," he said. "I will follow this path no longer." He turned, his gaze slipping past Jan, and began to walk away.

She shook her head. "No, no you can't go!" She looked to the two who remained, then back at his disappearing form. The crowd swirled around him, her mentor, and he soon disappeared from sight.

"Wong? Stephen? Stop him!" Jan said, voice cracking. She moved to go after Mordo, but Stephen held her arm. He remembered the Ancient One's last requests. If he couldn't keep both, he would at least try to help one.

"We need to stay together... we have to..." _Am I fated to suffer? Right here?_

"Jan..." Wong said.

She broke away from Stephen and ran into the throngs. She stumbled in the last direction Mordo had gone, prepared to shout his name the moment she saw him. People pushed around her, past her, through her as a knot tightened in her throat.

A few gave the girl weird looks—specifically directed at her clothing. She wore a tunic and pants better suited for ancient times, and a headscarf wrapped in a style not seen in Hong Kong. How strange this girl was, wandering through the streets, carrying a handle without a weapon, dressed in traditional wares. It wasn't even New Year's.

* * *

Hours later, Jan walked through the entrance to the Hong Kong sanctum. Though they had dried, her eyes were still red and puffy. She returned empty-handed. Having grieved on her own, she reported to Wong.

He and Stephen were in the infirmary, Stephen for treatment of his cuts, and Wong for organizing various relief efforts. They both looked up when she walked in.

Stephen and Wong looked at each other, then back at her.

"Yes," she said bitterly, "I came back." One of the healers came up to her, but she waved them off. She had no external injuries.

Wong nodded then plucked the sheet of paper from the herb shelf. He presented it to her, and Jan looked over the names. Whether it listed the names of the wounded or the names of the dead, she didn't know.

"There are still those wounded in Kamar-Taj, as well as ones needing transport from here and London."

People that needed care. Her people: the ones who'd stayed.

Jan nodded obediently. "Where do I start?"

* * *

 **A/N: Wow! We're nearly at the end of this... It's hard to believe that there's just the epilogue left to go. I'll save the tear-jerking farewells for next time, but it really means a lot to me that people read/are reading this story.**

 **Thank you to** Lyisle Lualdi **for favouriting, I'm glad you like this story :)**

 **And thank you to** BrySt1 **for favouriting and following, I hope you enjoyed this chapter :)**


	12. Epilogue

Epilogue

* * *

Bodies lined the floor. More than Jan had ever seen, and she could put a name to each one. Each face covered by its sheet: blue for the scholars, purple for the masters, red for the students, and one more, singular and golden, for her. The Ancient One.

Jan wasn't a part of the funeral process. She didn't know what was done to prepare their bodies. Whatever it was, they'd done a good job: there wasn't even a smell. Their faces were covered, and would only be revealed once more for any visiting family members. The cooks would be working overtime during the next week to provide for all the extra guests.

The Ancient One had no living family. Her ancestors—if any existed—would never know of her work. Even Jan, who'd been raised by her as much as Wong, wasn't allowed to see her face. For once, she envied the embalmers, for their last memory of her would be in here: Kamar-Taj, and not some steel-grey hospital.

Just four months ago they'd burned one. Today that number increased by fifteen.

Everyone knew that, technically, there were sixteen. But only fifteen would be given full burial rites. Found in a hall of the New York Sanctum, the only remaining body of Kaecilius' zealots was kept in the basement, wrapped in black.

Jan knew that Stephen had killed him. She didn't know what to say, so she didn't bring it up. Even she had never killed anyone.

Unlike her, he walked the halls of Kamar-Taj with a purpose: a point to prove. He'd saved Hong Kong and defeated Dormammu with his use of the time spell. Jan remembered how she'd felt, disorientated and disarranged, when Kaecilius had been dragged away by his master. That hadn't been natural, but then again, what part of this was?

There were serious talks of elevating Stephen to "Master Strange" after everything he'd done. Jan knew that he more than deserved the title. Plus, New York was in need of a new guardian. Kamar-Taj had lost enough Masters for one week.

Cleaning through the rubble at London had been rough. Most of the dead and wounded came from there, and although the guardian had survived, five young acolytes had not. They put up concealment charms around the Sanctum so that the bodies could be salvaged without questioning from regular paramedics.

Numerous relics had been destroyed in the explosion. All of that magic... just, _wasted_.

Rebuilding the physical structure of the Sanctum wouldn't take long—not with everything they were capable of. It was the magical foundation that worried the Masters. It had been damaged during Kaecilius' attack, and without the Ancient One's vast reserves of knowledge, it would be some time before the Sanctum would be back at its full strength. Until then, Earth's mystical defences would be weak.

What angered Jan most was Earth. Why. Earth.

Of all the planets in every solar system imaginable—and she knew there were others to choose from—why go after this particular one? What unlucky lot in the universal game of Life did Earth choose to have it screwed over so royally?

* * *

"A wise choice," Wong said after Stephen placed the Eye of Agamotto back on its restored pedestal. "You'll wear the Eye of Agamotto once you've mastered its powers. Until then, best not to walk the streets wearing an infinity stone."

"A what?" said Stephen.

Wong looked at him. The lore behind the infinity stones was in the beginner's guide to the mystic arts (chapter three). It was one of the fundamental principles upon which the universe was built.

He sighed. "You may have a gift for the mystic arts, but you still have much to learn." Wong looked up at the three-dimensional model of the Earth; at all its blinking lights; the symbols that represented the Sanctums. "Word of the Ancient One's death will spread through the multiverse. The Earth has no Sorcerer Supreme to defend it."

He looked to the Master's section, where Jan stood by one of the shelves, slowly flipping through a book. "We must be ready."

"We'll be ready," said Stephen.

* * *

Jan went to the garden, a leather backpack slung over one shoulder, and a packet of seeds tucked into her belt. She retrieved a watering can and a spade from the tool shed. Placing her backpack on the ground, she knelt at the foot of the apple tree.

The spade dug into the dirt with ease, only catching on a few small weeds. She dug several small holes, sprinkling an even amount of seeds in each one. When they were finally covered back up, she brushed the dirt from her hands and picked up the watering can.

"I hope you'll understand why I'm going," she said. "Before the funeral, and all... I mean, I already said goodbye and—and I can't do that again. Not in front of everyone." Wong and Stephen would have to do it on their own. They'd be all right: they had two dozen masters on their side.

Jan let her chin fall to her chest. "You- you confuse me very much."

She sighed. "I don't know if I should resent you for lying and keeping me here all this time, or if I should thank you for what I learned and for the protection you gave me... Maybe someday I'll figure out which."

Jan thought of the main courtyard, where they'd be setting up the pyres for the ceremony that night. Fifteen pyres.

"I understand what the questions meant—I know _why_ you did what you did. I think." Jan hoped the Ancient One was more at peace than the drug dealer would be. "You used the power to help the people you cared about—to help the world. And you knew the consequences of that..."

She took a deep breath. "I'm leaving. Not sure where to—maybe Africa, for starters. I know it isn't what you wanted for me. You wanted to keep me safe, but- I _am_ safe. I am. And you never trusted me with that. I'm going to take care of myself—and that's what you wanted, right?"

She sighed, trickling the watering can's remains over the freshly-planted seeds. "There's no way you're even listening..."

She unfolded a piece of paper from inside her pocket and put it under a rock at the base of the tree. Somehow, Jan knew the flowers would grow there—even if no one knew to care for them. She knew that the ceremony would have to start, regardless of her absence. She knew they would search her room for any sign as to where she'd gone, and she knew the note wouldn't be enough for Wong.

She had her weapon, and a book from the library. She had most of her worldly possessions stuffed inside this leather backpack. She also had her sling ring for any overseas travel. But for now, Jan tucked it away at the bottom of her bag.

If someone were to walk through the garden in a minute's time, they would find it empty save for a displaced watering can. They would continue on their way, as nothing was amiss in that moment.

She slipped out of Kamar-Taj into the busy streets of Kathmandu. Jan glanced back a couple of times, waiting to see if anyone called out her name—if anyone ran after her.

She smiled sadly, relived when no one did, then melted into a passing crowd.

* * *

 **A/N:** **So there it is: the** **epilogue** **. As for a sequel? That isn't on the table for the moment—I have other projects I'm working on, though I'm always thinking of how Jan could fit into the MCU in other ways.**

 **It's difficult to say goodbye—especially when it's to a world you love writing in so much. But it's also important to note that farewells like this are almost always temporary. Although my next project(s) likely won't involve Jan—or the MCU—** **t** **his story and the people who read it (AKA** _ **you,**_ **dear reader) will always be a source of support in my future writing** **endeavours.**

 **So once more: thank you for taking the time to read this story. It really means a lot :)**

BrySt1: **THANK YOU, I'm happy you love it :)**


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